


Stopover in Bucharest

by nigellecter, TaeAelin



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013)
Genre: Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, First Meetings, M/M, Rough Sex, Spacedogs, Stargazing, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:32:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 27,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5177051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nigellecter/pseuds/nigellecter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaeAelin/pseuds/TaeAelin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam lands at Bucharest airport. It’s late at night, and he has a room at the closest hotel booked before his transfer flight back to California in the morning. But the driver he arranged is nowhere to be found. Adam starts to worry- he doesn’t like when things don’t go to schedule. A man offers him a lift on his motorbike instead. Beautiful, scarred and most definitely dangerous- but he seems to know his way around. And people are always telling him to take more chances. Who knows, maybe the man even knew some nice spots to see the stars. Adam decides to accept the ride.</p>
<p>RP style. Adam/Nigel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Adam kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ground as he stepped out of the aircraft and onto the asphalt runway. He wasn’t used to the kind of plane that didn’t connect directly to a terminal- instead there was a battered transporter bus waiting to shepherd the passengers to the Bucharest arrivals area. He hadn’t counted on that. Checking his watch again, he saw it was already 11:08pm. Judging by the speed it was taking for the vehicle to fill-up, it would be at least quarter-past by the time they got going. Adam took a deep breath, carefully climbing aboard without bumping into anyone. He tucked himself the furthest seat to the front, the one with an open window. The air was warm, at least. It had a kind of smoky scent, sort of like that street in New York with the bright lights and loud restaurants, but not quite as tidy. Sharper, somehow. On second thoughts, he decided to shut the window after all.

By the time it was his turn at the passport-control, it was already 11:37. His hands had begun to tremble a little, but he pushed the anxious feeling aside as the officer at the desk asked him a question.

“Mr. Adam Raki? Are you here on business or holidays? You haven’t ticked an answer on your arrival card.”

Clearing his throat, he quickly jumped to explain. “Oh, oh, neither. It’s just a stopover, I’ll be taking the next flight to California tomorrow morning.” Fumbling with his backpack, he pulled out a document-holder with his itinerary neatly sandwiched within. “See- United Airlines flight A177, departing-”

“-You’ll have to provide an answer on your form, Mr. Raki. Business or pleasure?”

Adam stared back, his mind quickly whirring over the options. It had been a business trip, visiting the European Organisation for Astronomy in Germany, but that business was technically concluded, and now he was just on his way home. The officer was still waiting, and he realised he was going to have to say something. The least-wrong something.

“…pleasure?”

The word had the desired effect, and the officer marked a few boxes on the card before stamping his passport, looking relieved to move Adam along. Zipping the passport and the connecting flight details safely back into his carry-on bag, Adam hurried as fast as he could into the terminal. The man from the car-hire company had said someone would be there waiting for him, holding a sign with his name. He saw a lot of people, and a lot of signs, but not one was even written in English. A familiar tightness started in his chest, and he pulled out his phone. No missed calls. Had he been too late? Perhaps the driver hadn’t checked the arrivals board correctly. And that passport queue had been awfully long.

Dialing the agent, Adam made three short laps and left three long answering machine messages before he was certain it was a lost cause. He would just have to find his way to the hotel himself. He had caught plenty of taxi cabs in California. Surely there would be taxis here too. He would walk out the front door, find a ride, and everything would be right on schedule again before he knew it. Just as he planned.

____

The three-day business trip in Paris had been the most grueling trip Nigel had ever taken. Not because Parisians were the most fucking snob sons of fucking bitches to him, as he only could speak few broken phrases and very basic sentences. “Parlez-vous anglais?” Being the most spoken phrase of all, at least he registered that French people appreciated approaching with their mother tongue. Stubbornly, he had tried to get by with his accented English, which didn’t help at all. His less than enunciated and slurred tone, along with his characteristically low and husky voice had been difficult to comprehend. And no fucking offense, but what was up with /their/ accents? It had been better if he spoke the language instead. 

Thankfully, one associate that had been accompanying him had spoken fluent French as he had lived most of his early twenties and thirties doing a business with a French. The clients were mostly from France and Belgium and he had worked as a translator as he briefed his grand scheme to expand his empire of drug and firearm trade to selling forged and replicated artworks. France had been the perfect place to do it, home to Louvre and L’Orangerie, Musee D’Orsay, Centre Georges Pompidou, you name it. From ancient Greek/Roman to the most modern art there is, the resources had been endless. With talented artists and conservationists who wanted to test their impeccable skills, that meant he could garner even more money to fund his travel to the States, more specifically, to New York to own a penthouse that he coveted and open his own high-end club. All of his savings had been funded to get the expansion propelled. Once everything took off, all of his accumulated resources would be useful. 

The flight had been completely packed and he almost missed his flight, because of his head-throbbing hungover from the night before. With the clients’ meetings, it always involved hefty amount of booze and that night had been no exception. His ashen hair mussed and dark bags under his normally intense hazel eyes, he had been passed out for the duration of the flight, four much needed hours of rest. 

His leather duffle bag in his hand without any luggage to claim in the baggage claim area, he storms out of the plane in a haste, wanting to be on his sleek and sporty motorcycle and go out for a ride outside the city. Few buttons on his tight black button down shirt comes off as beads of sweat trickles down the curve of his neck. How he had fucking missed Romanian summer. Everyone had called Paris ‘the city of light’ and the most coveted, wanted destination in the world, but to him, it had been the most dull and dark city of all. What a fucking irony. The weather had been crappy and he had missed the hot and smoldering Romanian summer. 

The airport had been as dead as quiet once he had exited towards the main area, all the bars and shops closed and barely any people walking around, except security and police officers making their night runs. Rubbing the last bit of sleep away from his eyes as his eyes flicker down to the exit, he notices a young man, possibly in his early to middle thirties, with dark curls, definitely not a local around here as his more than flustered expression proves. 

He knows there’s no public transportation running and fucking taxis are hard to catch, unless you spoke Romanian. With a tilt of his head and slight smirk dipping his cheek, he taps the stranger’s shoulder. “Where the fuck are you headed?” Plucking a half-crushed cigarette pack from his dark and slim jeans pocket, he lights the smoke and puffs the thick smoke, the white shroud painting the blackness as he relishes the rush of the nicotine. “You don’t fucking look the type to be around here.” Slouching against the glass wall opposite him, his smirk widens. “I’m Nigel, who the fuck are you? If your hotel isn’t too far, I can take you there.”


	2. Chapter 2

When Adam felt the tap at his shoulder, he almost jumped out of his skin. Relief that the hire-car driver had turned up after all flooded through him- so far his wait at the curb had turned up nothing but dark, speeding vehicles and a couple of teenagers trying to sell him what looked like a small bag of tea leaves. They hadn’t understood his polite explanation that he was in a bit too much of a rush to think of making tea right now, and even less his trying to mime ‘hailing a taxi’.

But it was going to be alright. This man- Nigel- looked and sounded incredibly confident. Not very professional exactly, smoking and swearing on the job, but he certainly seemed familiar with the area, leaning up against the window like he was right at home. But Adam was prepared. He had studied-up on Romanian customs on his lunch-breaks in Germany- it was always better to have something to do whilst he was eating- and found that the American laws on lighting cigarettes in undercover seating areas in fact didn’t apply in Bucharest at all. Though the Lonely Planet articles mentioned nothing on cursing, he had come to understand that such words could be used to emphasise the important parts of a sentence, and could also provide hints on how the other person was feeling.

From Nigel’s questions, Adam could tell the man had observed his transportation dilemma, and was most likely making sure that he was indeed Adam Raki, the person who had booked the car. This was of course completely reasonable, considering Adam wasn’t exactly holding a sign with his name on it. Which, now that Adam came to think of it… neither was Nigel.

Taking a small step back, it suddenly dawned on Adam that the stranger hardly looked like the employee of a nine-to-five hire company. Or any sort of company at all. He was holding a leather bag of much the same size as Adam’s backpack- the right size for fitting in an overhead aircraft locker; that was. Unlike Adam, he looked somewhat messy and strung-out, all sweat and shadows and smoke. Not quite able to look him in the eye, Adam’s gaze fell somewhere below the man’s open collar instead, and he suddenly felt rather hot in his own tightly buttoned shirt and cardigan.

He had to make a choice. Stand out here on the pavement, thinking about a car that didn’t arrive and a taxi that most certainly wouldn’t be- or try to make a new acquaintance, something he’d never quite gotten the hang of. Bracing himself, he shook his fringe out of his eyes, the smile coming easier to his face than he expected. The Romanian was trying to help him after all, and he didn’t seem to mind waiting while Adam fidgeted to construct the answers to his inquiry.

“Hello, Nigel. My name is Adam, pleased to meet you.” He swallowed, feeling satisfied that had sounded close to how he intended. “I have a reservation the Athenee Palace Hilton, Strada Episcopiei 1-3, București 010292, Romania.”

Reciting the exact address without need to look at his notes, he took a deep breath, waiting for a visual cue from his companion. Nigel wasn’t who he’d expected to meet at the airport, and he didn’t want to put the man out of his way either. But, as he caught a glimpse of the star-speckled sky over Nigel’s shoulder, he couldn’t help wonder if perhaps his night might turn out better than it started. People were always telling him to take more chances, after all.

____

His stance slouched even further as Nigel balances himself on one foot, his hips tilt to one side, the smoke hanging between index and middle finger as he feels the ash blow past his jeans and towards where Adam is standing. Myriads of thoughts pass through his brain as he had been rather excellent at reading people. It had been his job after all. Meeting all sorts of people inside his club was one thing, but he didn’t lack the airline frequent flyer mileages and hoping to relocate to New York as soon as his club sells and his new business takes off. Encountering strangers had been one of the things that had been a visceral excitement for him. Behind his self-defense mechanism of driving off all the other people besides people who he benefited from and his acquaintances, he rather enjoyed passing his time observing people at the airport. All of his insecurities and skyrocketing stress level as this proved to be high-risk, his mind had been even more so restless. Perhaps that’s why he had been drawn to this particular stranger, knowing he would’ve been the same without his associate in Paris. 

Definitely socially awkward, but Adam’s face hadn’t been driving him off and from the accent, he figures the younger man is indeed an American. “You’re from the States. I was just there a few weeks ago.” That would confirm the past issue with the transportation, as locals would’ve either scheduled the flight time accordingly or have the arrangements already made. Was it possible that something might have gone wrong?

“You fucking are gonna get nowhere standing here like this, those vehicles will just pass by you, unless you really flag for the taxis. And don’t fucking buy from those kids. Who the fuck knows what that fucking crap is adulterated with. Better doing the straight stuff.” As soon as his low and husky voice breaks the awkward silence once again, the lights inside the airport begins to shut off. The automatic door shutting from the inside with a whirling click. The overhead light only means of lighting their standing forms as the summer air chills up a bit, the thing about Romania was it had been unpredictable as hell, but after the grim, darkened and murky sky of Paris behind him, a bit of humid wind lightens up his sullen mood. 

Raking through his long ashen bangs as he brings the cigarette once again to his full lips, beads of sweat trickles down his temple and on the curve of his back, wetting a continuous trail and making his shirt cling. Feeling his heartbeat quicken under the thin shirt, the exhale comes out rather quickly as the smoke had been making his quenched mouth even more dry. Registering the address and knowing exactly where it is, he curtly nods, crushing half-smoked cigarette butt under his heavy boots. “That’s on my way to my fucking flat, wouldn’t even break the fucking sweat to get you there. Probably in fifteen at this time of the day.” 

A flash of thought crosses his mind. Going back to his barren and dim flat with no trace of warmth whatsoever almost appalls him. He’d drink some more beer, pig out on some bar food he had craved so much, especially Romanian meatball soup called Ciorbă De Perisoare that he grew more to love with time. Recalling the squalid pigsty his bedroom had left in, he shakes his head, thinking to crash at the hotel instead and go back to his house in the morning. 

“My fucking motorcycle is parked in the domestic parking area, right over down that side.” Beckoning with his chin as he lifts the leather duffel bag over his shoulder, he laces his fingers along with Adam’s, taking confident steps with swaggering of his hips. The hilt of gold-capped handgun flashes as the wind sweeps through the hem of his shirt.


	3. Chapter 3

Feeling the harder clasp of Nigel’s fingers between the his own, Adam stiffened, then allowed his palm to wind back against the touch, his fingertips grazing over the other man’s knuckles. Though they’d only just met, Adam felt strangely calmed by the way his new companion had taken charge of the situation. He almost never knew when the right time was to touch someone and when wasn’t. The middle of the unfamiliar carpark certainly seemed a very good time to touch someone, especially when that person was weaving between densely-packed cars at a mile a minute, and Adam had no idea where they were headed.

But he did register the word motorcycle. Whilst the rest of Nigel’s advice on what teas to drink and the proximity of the hotel was still decoding in Adam’s mind, the visual of exactly what kind of ride he would be taking suddenly shimmered and popped in his memory, and he hoped Nigel didn’t feel his hand twitch in alarm. Adam had never even had someone teach him how to ride a bicycle, let alone a motorcycle. His heart throbbing a good deal faster, he realised immediately that somewhere along the line there must have been a miscommunication. This man thought he was the sort of person who could just throw on a helmet, pull a leather jacket out of his bag, and leap onto a stunt-mobile like someone from a James Bond movie. There had been a mistake. His smile sunk at the corners as he realised he was going have to tell Nigel the truth- he wasn’t that person. He wasn’t adventurous. He wasn’t even much of a traveller.

Looking desperately around, Adam wasn’t even sure he could find his way back to the terminal if he tried. What he did see was the two teenagers, this time with a larger group of their friends, glancing toward them. Sifting between the cars, Adam thought they seemed to recognise him, though he couldn’t tell if the look was friendly. They seemed to be trying some of the car door handles- lost keys perhaps. Making a better effort to keep pace with Nigel, he stumbled a little closer than intended, the soft curve of his abdomen bumping into a metallic object shoved behind Nigel’s belt. A drinking-flask, he suspected. Nigel didn’t seem to be the hiking type, but, as Adam well knew, you could never judge a book by it’s cover.

Adam gave a quick shiver of his head, his brow creasing behind the fall of dark hair. It was now or never. Apologise, thank him for his generosity, and tell him the closest thing you’ve come to balancing on two wheels is repurposing the spokes of them as a telescope-stand.

“Did you know, it was actually two Romanian astronomers who discovered the two variable stars in the Cassiopeia and Andromeda constellations?” 

Adam had no idea where the words had come from, it certainly hadn’t been what he’d intended to blurt out. But as he’d opened his mouth to say everything he couldn’t do, he found that somehow, tonight, he wanted nothing more. And if he could focus on some things he did know, some things he could, maybe that was a good place to start. 

“They named them Galati V2 and Galato V2, after the Galati Natural Sciences Museum. They’re the only two stars in the galaxy with Romanian names.” Glancing above them, Adam used his free hand to point forty degrees up from the horizon. “See those five bright stars? The ones that form a “W” shape? That’s Cassiopeia. In autumn and winter it has an “M” shape. It’s like a seasonal reminder calendar in the sky.” He paused, not quite remembering if that was the correct phrasing of the joke. “Just below it is Andromeda. And somewhere inside both of them are the Galati’s. We can’t see them with the naked eye, but they’re there.”

Adam realised they had come to a halt. Whether it was because Nigel wanted to look at the stars, or they had finally reached the motorcycle, he wasn’t sure. But the idea of racing through the bright lights and streets of Bucharest with Nigel by his side suddenly wasn’t as unthinkable as he first imagined.

____

Feeling the nervousness roll off Adam’s vibe as he feels that unmistakable flinch of the muscles, his long fingers pulls at Adam’s smaller hand, their palms gliding and flushed with each other’s yet again. His slightly calloused fingertips stretching the back of the younger man’s paler skin. The unlit airport building becoming more like an abandoned school from the distance, the three distinctive half-circled domes and the faintly lit lights, still emitting a soft glow under the shadows. “It is a long fucking way from here, as it had been a particularly crowded day. After all, it is the fucking busiest airport in Romania and we only have few of those.” 

Snaking through the parking lots numbered with alphabets and numbers, he vaguely remembers his motorcycle had been parked around the corner of the signpost, was it A3 or A4? He had remembered typing it on his iPhone. His quickened step slowing down a bit as he plucks the phone out from his back pocket, he scrolls through the note and finds out that it is the former. “It’s parked in A3, look for the damn sign, it shouldn’t be not too fucking far from here.” With a gentle tug of his hand, he pulls Adam closer, a film of sweat covering his thin shirt as he feels more beads of them forming on his hairline. Adjusting his duffle bag over his shoulder as he briefly glances at the group of teenagers. 

“Did they fucking speak to you before? Words of fucking advice. First, don’t give them attention. Either they’re trying to sell you tainted stuff or they’re distracting you so the other group of kids can steal whatever the fuck you have, wads of cash, expensive stuff that they could sell, whatnot. I’d not underestimate those delinquents.” He knows all too well, because he had been one when he was their age, perhaps the worst one ever. Glancing ever so often to check of Adam was following him with his pace, his own slows down a bit, a bump on his hips sends his intertwined hand to brush against the man’s cardigan, around the waist. 

At Adam’s words that sounded unartful, but something he had never ever heard, his brows raise in curiosity. A chuckle lifts his chest as his breath slightly quickens. “Fucking astronomers? What the hell are constellations? I had no fucking idea they were named… After them.” He had never been good at ice breaking or small talks, it had been ironic. As much as he had been good at capturing people’s attentions with his outwardly demeanor or his self-confidence that exuded naturally, people were magnetized by that. With what he had been interested in, it had been so easy to broach the subject, but not this, not this stars and constellations, something that he glanced, knows they’re there. He had never appreciated the existence of them. 

At first, he feigns his interest as his gaze looks upward, rather tiringly, but his eyes follows where Adam is pointing otherwise. “Should I be fucking glad Romania has two constellations named after them?” His tone comes off as blunt and flat, but he doesn’t mean he’s uninterested or he doesn’t care a bit. It is rather intriguing to find out something that no one has ever told him before. “So a ‘W’ shape during spring and summer, a ‘M’ shape during fall and winter, interesting. Why the fuck is that, because the Earth rotates?” Staring at the negative shape underneath the angle of the ‘W’ shape, his head tilts. “Perhaps you’d like to show me this Galatis with whatever the fuck you use to see them, a telescope?” 

Taking a time to open the flask to take the long sip of the liquor, his roving eyes make out the dark sign that says A3 in the distance. “Ah, there’s my fucking bike.” A sporty and sleek, black chrome plated with red accented Ducati Multistrada comes into a sight. A recent acquisition, custome-made that had cost more than anything else he had ever owned in his possession. His second body, his pastime hobby and his everything. “This fucking badass of a bike is not as intimidating as it looks. Have you ever ridden one such as this, Adam? You’ll fucking love it.”


	4. Chapter 4

As he listened to Nigel speaking, Adam felt a surge of happiness brimming in his chest. Judging from the number of fucks Nigel was using, he was surely very excited and interested in the Romanian-named stars. For once, Adam felt like he had picked the right conversation topic- not only was Nigel staring where he pointed, he had even asked for more information. This was definitely a good sign. And Nigel was still holding his hand, even though there was no longer a risk of him getting lost between the parked cars. Wondering if it might be appropriate to let go, he found he didn’t exactly want to. Nigel’s fingers felt rougher than his own, his grasp more vicious somehow. And yet, it was a firmness that Adam found reassuring. Like he wouldn’t have to worry about squeezing too hard.

As Adam traced his gaze from their hands up to Nigel’s collarbone, he noticed Nigel’s shirt had become dampened by the humidity, several lines of sweat carving through the black material. It made the shirt cling to him in a way that kept Adam mesmerised for a second, before he finally peered up to the taller man’s face. With Nigel still focusing-in on the night sky, Adam felt he was finally able to get a clear view of his new and intriguing companion. He’d always found it a lot easier to look at someone when they weren’t looking back.

With the fluorescent lights of the carpark cast across Nigel’s shadowed complexion, he was struck by the unforgiving lilt of the man’s features. He didn’t look like anyone else he had ever met, nor somebody who could be easily unravelled. But when Nigel glanced back at him, he didn’t feel overwhelmed or overloaded- more that he was just looking at a very difficult puzzle. And like most things in the world that mystified him, he only hoped he could figure it out.

Realising Nigel must still be waiting for his answer, he swiftly reminded himself not to talk too quickly or for too long, as often happened when he got caught up in sharing things he found fascinating. The first thing that came to his mind was of course to explain the celestial coordinate system, and how the International Astronomical Union had identified 88 different constellations within the hemispherical screen. But, as his attention flitted somewhere between Nigel’s jaw and cheekbones, he somehow wondered if Nigel might find the mythology of it more appealing.

“Constellations- the word comes from Latin, meaning ’set of stars’. So… recognisable star patterns in the sky.” Adam pulled his face into an anxious smile. “Evidence suggests that from as long as people were able to make markings- even on stones and clay writing tables- they were also cataloging different animals or objects in the sky. Ancient people saw things that were important to them- gods and beasts, ships and weapons- things that they loved or feared. But sometimes-” Adam paused, catching his breath. “-they just used the stars to find their way home.”

Letting the facts settle into the silence, he felt his attention drawn to the dangerous looking motorcycle in front of him. What had Nigel called it? A Ducati? Adam wasn’t sure how an object of transportation could also be a badass, but he did get the impression the bike was somehow special to Nigel. Sort of like how the new Saxon Pioneer Refractor Telescope he had in his backpack was special to him. The most lightweight on the market, it had been a gift from the product representative in Germany, for which he was very grateful. The specs were promising for a portable, but he hadn’t yet had a chance to try it out. As he nodded to confirm Nigel’s guess that the rotation of the earth on its axis was indeed what caused the sky to change with the time of the year, he could hardly believe Nigel was actually curious to see for himself, fidgeting with the sleeves of his jumper in anticipation.

“I- I could definitely show you. It’s a perfect night for it, minimal cloud cover. But this carpark won’t give us the clearest view-” he waved to the surrounding security beacons “-too many bright lights.” He stopped to make what he hoped was a enthusiastic, rather than terrified, gesture toward the bike. “If you wanted, maybe there’s somewhere in the city a little higher? Like an empty building, or a lookout, or…” his thoughts strayed toward the rooftop of the hotel where he was staying, which he knew had an open air pool and spa. But he was almost certain inviting someone to your hotel was generally considered too forward. “…or anywhere.”

A figure moved behind Nigel’s upper arm. Those teenagers seemed to be loitering ever closer to them, and after Nigel’s warning, he had started to doubt the wisdom of carrying his telescope, laptop and a good deal of spare cash all on his person. “But I haven’t…” he could feel the words sticking in his throat. “I haven’t…” he stared down at the bike seat, the shiny acceleration pedal, the severe lack of seat belts, then back up at Nigel’s face. “I haven’t really done this before.”

____

His almost death-grip hold on Adam’s hand begins to coat with sweat as his smoldering skin rubs against the younger man and unconsciously, his palm glides against Adam’s pants as his thumb draws a half-circle across the back of the pale-skinned wrist. Compared to his sun-kissed and hard skin of his own, Adam’s feels more alabaster and smooth, like stroking the finest china. His head tilts upward and he grows rather wistful, as he ponders about his hectic life. Busy days at the office and the club, hustle and bustle of the downtown life as he immersed completely inside the gregarious and boisterous nightlife, but never have crossed the thought of looking up at the stars. It is indeed calming and almost therapeutical. Something that indeed lacked in his routine life. 

Masking the lack of affection and his rather aloof and evasive attitude towards others, however impersonal the topic of conversation had been, Nigel couldn’t help but to stare at the sky and then his stormy eyes flickering across Adam’s profile. The most mesmerizing thing he could notice was those sparkling blue eyes, so much different from his usually tempestuous and expressive one. Almost innocent and bright. Not a single trace of corruption and adulteration in those flecks. 

Slaking his thirst with more whiskey from the flask as he takes a long chug, his eyes remained close for a while Adam’s voice is permeated through the air, the tone notches higher than his own, the excitement contained in the voice as the decibel slightly raises than when he had encountered the stranger. The younger man’s stance loosened, he could judge it by how Adam’s fingers don’t squirm or slide away like he had been only minutes before. “I fucking think that would be the most natural and matter-of-course thing for those ancient people to do, I’d be fucking bored my ass off if I didn’t have all those advancements like we do now. The North Star, isn’t it? The one that you use for navigation.” As he registers Adam’s words further, the word ‘weapon’ especially draws his attention, considering he has one glistening against his side, the cool hilt of the gun brushing against his waistband. “Fucking weapons? I didn’t know those sets of stars would connect to make weapons. Is there anything we can see with our naked eye?” A curious tilt of his head, a faint smirk dips his cheek.

With Adam’s next strings of words, his smirk widens to a grin, almost Cheshire. Something of a predator crosses his eyes, but it’s nothing like when he’s cornering his prey against an inescapable corner. More so along the line with his inquisitiveness towards the stars. To him, curiosity would never kill the cat. His fifth floor flat, connected to the roof, barren and empty, no fucking bright buildings or skyscrapers of any kind. Off to the suburban, but still close to the downtown where his club was. Never in his mind, he thought his flat could become a useful location for anything other than for him to slumber and debauch the night away and to give him an opportunity for him to have someone who could actually call a friend over. No one had visited him in his most private space, where he had became most vulnerable, open and raw. 

“Then why don’t we go to my flat. The hotel you’re staying in would be more ideal and definitely higher, if it has an open space on the rooftop, then I don’t fucking mind looking at the stars there.” As soon as he finishes speaking, a figure casts a dark shadow upon the side of his face and his eyes immediately turn fierce, knowing what those kids are capable of doing, his hand hovers on the gun, ready to threaten them if they got even more closer. “Lasă-ne dracului în pace, copii.” Muttering in Romanian as he leans against the heavy metal of the Ducati, his neck stretches as he plucks out the keys that jangle inside his hand, the pinup girl tattoo on his neck stretches as his leg swings across, gracefully mounting the bike. Beckoning with his hand as he lets go of the tight hold, Nigel points to the plush leather seat, which shines under the flourescent light. “Hop on. I already fucking figured you aren’t the fucking type to ride one of those babies and don’t fucking worry. I wouldn’t want your fucking pretty head of yours to turn into a mush.” 

Turning to open his compartment and taking out two helmets, one against his chest and one in his hand, he hands smaller one to Adam. “As long as you fucking wear one of those and hold me in a tight grip, you should be fine. So where the fuck are we going, to your hotel or my flat? If you think we can look at the stars there, then we’re going there fucking pronto.”

His hand sticks out after he wipes a sweaty palm across his coriaceous jeans. An invitation, a sign of wanting Adam to show his complete trust.


	5. Chapter 5

As Nigel unscrewed the cap on the drinking flask, Adam caught the piercing scent of alcohol on the air. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but there was something sharply alluring about the warmth of the liquor. It of course brought to mind the image of bars, clubs and cellars; but instead of thinking of them as places he never went, Adam now found himself picturing Nigel in such places, and suddenly finding the idea of them far less daunting.

“Weapons? Oh, yes, definitely. We can see Orion, the hunter, right now” Adam beamed. He liked how Nigel’s eyes seemed to light up when he’d mentioned the word, his dark pupils contracting in amongst the gashes of bronze and hazel. Like looking into the sun, he found he couldn’t stare too long, but the heat of those eyes burned into his retinas long after he closed them. “In Greek mythology, Orion dared to say he would kill every animal on the planet. A scorpion was sent to kill him in return, and almost did. Orion barely survived the attack. That’s said to be the reason why the constellations of Scorpius and Orion are never in the sky at the same time.”

It wasn’t until Nigel replaced the flask at his hip, his hand lingering a moment, that he realised there was another object tucked in the man’s belt. Gilded and engraved, it looked to be an ornate handle of some sort- well-worn to the touch, but edged with severity. It looked familiar somehow, like something he’d seen in one of his favourite cowboy and alien films. Before he had time to fill-in all the blanks, he realised the posture of the surrounding younger locals had changed.

Before, they had leaked from the shadows, the sound of their footsteps crackling on shards of broken glass left on the carpark floor. Now, seeing the turn of Nigel’s head as he seemed to acknowledge their presence, their movement had stopped. Adam didn’t know why- Nigel hadn’t said anything to them, and they hadn’t said anything to Nigel. But, as quickly as they had loomed in, he now saw their shoulders hunching over, as if someone had taken the air out of their tyres. Instead of the uneasily pointed smiles, he saw the kind of expression people got when they heard some shocking story on the news, or when he told them about a wonderful but deadly breed of venomous snake.

As the group melted back toward the terminal, he felt an unusual sense of calm come over him. Maybe the youths had remembered he’d already declined the offer of goods the first time, and therefore there was no need to seek his custom again. Or maybe it was Nigel they recognised, and saw he was obviously a busy sort of person, likely to already know all sorts of handy places get things, and so there was no need to disturb him. Either way, he definitely got the feeling Nigel was a good sort of friend to have by his side. And what’s more, Nigel even mentioned his own flat. This was very encouraging- nothing made Adam surer that it was okay to ask somebody something, than when they had already asked a similar thing first. Nigel had said it was okay for Adam to come to his flat, so it was definitely okay for Adam to invite Nigel to his hotel. One of the most expensive in town, the very least he could do to repay Nigel’s kindness would be to offer him a cocktail from the hotel bar. He felt confident this was an appropriate suggestion, as he had already seen Nigel drink alcohol from the flask, and cocktails contained alcohol.

“The roof of the hotel would be perfect for stargazing!” he grinned, accepting the offer of a helmet. As much as he didn’t like the idea of having any part of his body constricted, he much less liked the idea of head-mush. Or worse, if he were injured, Nigel may feel responsible. And he wouldn’t feel too enclosed if he kept the visor up, after all. And Nigel would be wearing one too. Yes. It was going to be okay. He squeezed the helmet over his brow, pleased as he realised he hadn’t even hesitated, and Nigel was extending his palm to him.

He looked down at the hand, then, for a split second, managed another look at Nigel’s eyes. Knowing things about other people was hardly his strong suit, but if he had to guess, he’d say Nigel wasn’t the type of person who went around offering his hand freely. And yet, he wasn’t taking the hand away. As Adam placed his softer palm within, letting Nigel steadily guide him to sit behind him on the bike, he hardly felt unbalanced at all. Nigel seemed to have complete control, the thing hadn’t even wobbled when he’d sat down. Wrapping his arms around Nigel’s waist, he felt the coil of Nigel’s stomach muscles beneath the sweat-drenched shirt, and tightened his hold. Adam didn’t want to suffocate him, but he felt a lot more secure as he pressed the side of his cheek against Nigel’s spine, the throb of Nigel’s pulse coursing against his body. He heard Nigel reach for the ignition, and sucked a last breath of air through his teeth. He wondered if this was what astronauts felt like, in the moment they left the world behind.

____

His bouts of binge drinking had subsided, albeit gradually. All his life, he had drowned in it. All the insecurities of his life had faded and disappeared behind the alcohol-drowned brain. The excruciating pain he had to endure when he had been eviscerated. After all the time after he tried to end his life, he was sure that this one would be it. Blood spilling from the long and diagonal gash, as he had crawled on the floor, his tanned olive glow completely stripped away as his face grew pallid with every passing second. His own sweat drenched body had painted a thick and wide trail of crimson across the cold concrete floor. Having stitched himself with fishing wire as a makeshift suture, he had thanked the god he didn’t believe for letting him make it into his squalid flat. The humid scorching heat of the summer permeated through the walls, that night had been especially suffocating as he laid almost lifeless, his heart beating way too fast, too frantic to pump the blood. 

“The - the hunter.” When the hunter became the hunted, the predator suddenly becoming the cornered prey like he had been, he could relate to the mythology behind Orion and Scorpius. He’d always dared to say that he’d hasten anyone who faced in his opposite towards limbo. ‘It’s not your final destination, I’ll be along soon enough to hasten you there.’ In fact, he had hastened his own. It could’ve been his personal oblivion, in the past, his hopes had became the limbo of lost dreams when everything felt stalled. His business wasn’t going nowhere, he had been in his transitional state, with his work, state of consciousness, time stopping, except he felt like he had been shrouded by nothingness. 

“However vicious the attack, he at least survived? Then what happened to Orion?” Now completely absorbed into the story and the related constellation, the association and connection to his own personal story makes it alluring. Still reminiscing about the event of that particular night, his heart hammers frenetically, blood suddenly pumping and throbbing against his taut neck and spine. All the nerves tingling, as Scorpius feels like what he had been fighting with all his life, his inner demon, his insecurities and faults that he didn’t want to openly admit. 

“You must love those fucking stars and constellations, although I fucking have to admit, that bit had been definitely caught up my interest. Fucking irresistible. I guess no matter where all those fucking stories come from, it proves all the things are universal, yes? No matter what it is, it’s relatable in all cases.” With a slight tilt of his head as his chin lifts, the helmet’s lining tightens around his head, the visor cleaned already with shaving foam to prevent it from fogging up. A firm hand gripping Adam’s softer palm as the other mounts on the back seat, the spacious black leather dual-seat holds both of them well. 

As Adam’s arms wind around his ripped abdomen, his coiled muscles tightens as his hips unconsciously shifts. Keys jangling inside his hands as the heavy engine roars and revs under him, the familiar vibration makes his blood jolt through his heart, the adrenaline rush pumping his heart even faster. “Here we go, you are in for a fucking surprise. The highway is gonna be rather deserted around this time and I can speed up and swerve through the vehicles like a fucking daredevil.” A smug smirk tugging his chin as the visor clicks, feeling Adam’s warm weight press into his damp shirt and dip of his spine, a thick white smoke trails behind the exhaust pipe as the bike deftly curves around the parking lot, the strong engine picks up the speed in mere few seconds, the reverberation coursing through his body as his strong thighs slightly lifts his hips up, his thin shirt flapping and lifting upwards, revealing his bare, toned skin.


	6. Chapter 6

As the hum of the engine travelled up Adam’s calves and into the core of his stomach, he had never squeezed someone so tightly in his life. With his head buried in the arch of Nigel’s back, Adam was glad the man wouldn’t see that his eyes were firmly shut, the vibrations disguising the fact he was shaking like a milkshake-mixer. Though he hadn’t thought there was room for him to wedge himself closer if he tried, the second the bike lurched forward, Adam crushed his thighs so hard against the back of Nigel’s that he was fairly sure the grip could have been considered airtight.

Focusing on everything except the fact that the wheels were now moving and there was a light breeze across his arms, Adam replayed Nigel’s comments about being a Daredevil. This at least he understood. Daredevil was a very popular series on Netflix back in California, which his colleagues at the Mount Wilson Observatory regularly discussed. Though he much preferred the recent Discovery Channel series on M-brane theory, Adam had always found it easy to remember things he had heard or read, and so recalled the descriptions of Daredevil perfectly. He supposed the character did share similar qualities with Nigel- both were tall, physically fit, and wore unnecessarily tightly fitting clothes. Adam risked opening his eyes for a second to catch a glimpse of the firm straddle of Nigel’s legs over the leather. Well, that bit he didn’t mind so much. Daredevil also liked saving people who were in trouble. All of this seemed very reassuring, until Adam realised Daredevil was also prone to getting into gunfights, fistfights, karate fights, holding people over high ledges until they told him information, and was also completely blind. Deciding this wasn’t the best train of thought for racing down the highway, Adam hastened to distract himself, shouting squarely toward Nigel’s collar.

“There are lots of different versions of the legend! In some, Orion is the hero, in others, he’s the bad guy!” Adam could barely hear himself over the wind screaming in his face, but this only encouraged him to raise his voice even louder. “But in my favourite, it was Ophiuchus the Serpent-Bearer who came to Orion when he was at the edge of death, reviving him from the Scorpion’s poison!”

His mind whirring over the story, Adam was hardly thinking about their increasing acceleration, unwinding one of his arms to point northwest of the centre of the Milky Way. “That’s the Ophiuchus constellation, there!”

As the bike dipped into a corner, he quickly thrust the arm back around Nigel’s waist, realising Nigel’s shirt had been lifted in the momentum and his hand was now touching the bare skin at Nigel’s side. Unable to rearrange himself, he did his best not to clutch too fiercely. Above the ripple of muscle, he felt something else too- a ridge of tangled flesh that seemed not to have healed properly. Though not recent, it felt to Adam like the injury had been very serious- it certainly stretched far outside the reach of his palm. Adam had to have stitches once too, the time he tested a flying contraption he had made when he was ten. After a long and uneventful trip to the hospital, he’d learnt that, even if the most sound of mathematical calculations indicated a 99.7% probability of success… it was still good practice not to jump off the roof.

Un-scrunching his eyes to peer over Nigel’s shoulder, the flash and blur of various street signs assailed him from all angles, and he realised they must be on the outskirts of the city perimeter. A large concrete building glowed in the distance, and Adam matched the shape with a picture he’d seen in the Lonely Planet Guide- the Palatul Parlamentului, or Palace of Parliament. Thrilled, he yelled the discovery toward the back of Nigel’s helmet. He wasn’t quite sure he’d got the pronunciation right, but he could always ask when they stopped. He had already heard Nigel speak Romanian, and the sound had been beautiful- low and rich, like unfiltered coffee. What was the expression he had used? Lasă-ne dracului în pace, copii? Adam carefully stored the colloquialism for later use; perhaps it would come in handy for thanking Nigel for the ride. He found his mind going over all the other foreign phrases he had memorised too, most to do with ordering food or asking where the bathroom was. None of these seemed useful for expressing just how overwhelmed and grateful he was right now, so he settled for one last shout toward the front.

“Nigel! This is absolutely the worst and most horrible thing I have ever done!” He curled into Nigel’s shoulder blades as the speed and adrenaline overtook him. “I never want it to end!”

____

Feeling every inch of Adam’s front press against his back as the unending oscillation of the revving engine underneath continues to accelerate, he could practically sense the nervousness roll off the younger man through the tremors. Much preferring the sleek, refined and smooth-chromed and shiny bodied sporty bike to more classical ones many other associates rode around, the front of the bike screamed his first impression and how other people got to know him as. Muscular and toned, dynamic and looking all like the predator. With all the low and high beams fully lit, it looked like a leopard sprinting its fastest, utilizing all the necessary muscles to capture its prey that had set its eyes upon. Never giving up, producing all the energy to transfix the object he had desired. 

If front had been all aggressive and remarkably striking as his outwardly demeanor, the back offered the contrasting features, just like the rider who had been so dexterously maneuvering the two-wheeled vehicle. Much more gentle lines covering the slender crimson-chromed body, he had stripped off all the unnecessary weight and added more exclusive materials such as carbon fiber, as he relished performance above all the other things. His bike probably had been the most unconscious, but sure way that he let other people know. If those were indeed interested in finding out about him in more layers, like peeling off all the layers of an onion. Most people merely saw the exterior and confined him in the narrow category. Violent, relentless, cruel, distanced at times. 

The multimedia system of the dashboard flashes the approximate time for their destination arrival time. Thirteen minutes. With Adam’s extra information of the mythology legend of Orion, his shoulders shrug. Wasn’t the title of being a ‘hero’ overrated? Of course, from the ally’s side, he would be considered one, but wasn’t he the case of being the villain, even to some of his associates who didn’t agree so much on his reckless and impulsive. And then, there were other breeds of people who merely saw him as the most evilest little shit. That’d be his turncoats, which made him to earn that prominent scar on his left side that had made visible due to the wind lifting the hem of his damp shirt. 

His slightly liquid hazel orbs retrace the old times when he had been much more depressed, his volatile and uncontrollably possessive and violent times when he had been a wounded animal. Gabi had been his Ophiuchus the Serpent-Bearer who came to Orion, him to tend his infectious evisceration when he was at the edge of death. The cello music once had been the cure-all, but with all that behind him now after an ugly divorce and with him spiralling down into an oblivion with much drug use and binge drinking, the notorious drug lord of Bucharest merely reduced into a substance relying, dope fiend who only was able to experience fleeting euphoric feelings with the use of angel dust.

Completely immersed in his driving, he hears Adam’s frantic shouting, his soulful eyes trail upward towards the sky to glance at the constellation. The streamlined body fluidly cornering through the sharp curve, his distorted, raised edge of the gash that hadn’t properly healed due to its crude stitching and lack of treatment begins to spasm. Something that he would have to get used to. The flayed skin there had been the most sensitive area. 

“Yes, that would be the Palatul Parlamentului, but perhaps you’d much more prefer going to Observatorul Astronomic “Amiral Vasile Urseanu.” No fucking translation required there, does it not?” A short burst of chuckle lifts his chest as the dashboard in front of him senses oncoming accident on the somewhat deserted highway. After hearing Adam’s raised voice that has hints of excitement taking over that nervous aura, his curved lips turn into a full smirk under the visor as he slows down a bit. Some vehicles had halted in front of him as ‘Poliție’ cleared the accident. A front to rear collision, three cars entangled and smashed in a mess. 

“Well, fucking shame it had to stop for a while, but I think you mean to say ‘este absolut cel mai bun și interesant lucru care sa întâmplat vreodată cu mine.’ It is absolutely the best and exciting thing that has ever happened to me, wouldn’t you fucking agree?” A strong leg propping down as his thigh flexes, his sharp orbs catch the glimpse of the blood trail painted on the grass and dirt as the dead body carries out on a gurney.


	7. Chapter 7

At first, Adam hardly realised they had come to a stop. His heart was whirring faster than the time he once missed the 7:47 bus in New York, and rather than throw off his regular routine, had sprinted all the way across Central Park to catch up with it four stops down. But as the blue lights splattered and bounced off Nigel’s helmet, he glimpsed some kind of road blockage, the emergency vehicles already present on the scene.

Leaning around Nigel’s arm to better focus, he first saw the intertwining trails of black against the slate grey tar of the road- it looked like several cars had hit the breaks hard, the tyres skidding out of control. Next he saw a haze of orange and reflective white- splintered brake lights and windows, exploded across the road like a firework. Then he saw several clods of earth sprayed out from where one of the cars impacted with the overgrown grassy embankment. And last, the body, or, the shape of one beneath the black bag, being wheeled into the back of an ambulance. And then it hit him.

This must have been what it looked like when his father died.

It had been two years and eight months since he got the call. He had been at home, trying not to check the clocks too many times, but his father had always returned before seven, and it was already half-past. Then his friend Harlan had called to see if Adam was home, and asked if he might pop by. Adam had replied, yes, he was home, and yes, he could pay him a visit. When Harlan arrived, a Police Officer was with him. Those few times Adam had interacted with the Police, they had always spoken too fast, and also kept repeating the exact same questions rather than explaining them in different ways. This time was much different. The Police Officer spoke very slowly and clearly, and told him there had been an accident and his father was dead. Adam hadn’t reacted much, not on the outside. He just remembered saying, “okay.”

As Adam looked at the hazard before him, it didn’t make him feel sad. He couldn’t change what had happened- it just happened. It just was. Unlike the astrological mythology that so comforted him in times of need, Adam didn’t agree with the ancient belief that the spirits of your loved ones watched over you from space. But that didn’t mean, that as he glanced at Nigel’s face and that cagey smile that made his stomach feel a bit funny- that if his father saw him now, on this grand adventure- that he wouldn’t be proud.

Fixated on the scene taking place before him, Adam thought he heard Nigel say the name of the famous Romanian Astronomical Observatory centre, home of one of the most innovative planetariums in the Northern Hemisphere. Whether it was the aftershock of their bolt from the airport or the impact of reflecting on his past, Adam found himself getting tangled as he tried to put together an answer. Remembering the laptop in his backpack, he suddenly realised he could show Nigel instead, and scrambled to swing the bag to his front to unzip it. His fingers still trembling, he found the task more difficult than he expected, and thought he might be better stepping off the bike whilst the Police cleared the last of the debris from the road.

Attempting to replicate the graceful way Nigel had mounted, Adam swung his right leg to the side and then around, releasing his left leg and placing it firmly on the tarmac. It had all gone very well, until he realised that somehow during the last ten minutes, both his legs had turned to jelly. He found himself swiftly planted on the ground instead, blinking up at Nigel with a rather surprised expression on his face. Though he might have looked slightly odd, he wasn’t hurt, and concluded he was no less able to access the laptop from this position than standing up.

Pulling out the Macbook Air, his fingers flew over the keys. “You mean… this place?” He turned the screen up to face Nigel, pressing play so that the promotional video on the Amiral Vasile Urseanu homepage started up, depicting the recent lunar eclipse. As the artificial light spun over Nigel’s features, he thought he saw a small image on the man’s neck- it was dark, but it reminded him of the sort of picture he might see in an old saloon or sailor bar. Like the legends in his books on space, he was sure the tattoo had an interesting story behind it too, and grew more and more curious.

The video finished, the wash of light fading whilst his excitement threatened to bubble-over. “You- you know this place? You know where it is? That would be… incredible.” Adam could hardly contain his wonder- he knew this particular observatory had been built to look like a boat anchored right in the centre of Bucharest. The photographs had been fantastic enough, but now there was a chance he might actually visit it in person?

It wasn’t until he looked back up at Nigel that he realised the reason he was so happy. It wasn’t just that he might see something amazing. It was that Nigel would be the one to take him there.

____

The particularly gruesome scene of the accident reminds him of the one he had been involved in before. The one previous model he used to own, the same model, but less customized and in different color. A shiny white chrome plated one which looked a blown up version of the one he owns now. Somewhat of a prototype to much improved version of what he owns now. All he recalls now is the sleek chrome painted and splattered with his own blood as a broken off piece of the white metal had lodged into his side, pinning him down sort of like a collected sample of insect. The view painted with blood and scorching fire increasingly warming the side of his face as the engine begins to ignite with small flame. Motorcycles were dangerous, that was the cold hard truth that he had taken into the consideration when he had purchased his first moped when he was an adolescent. “Like a bike, even if it’s tipped a little bit, it’s very easy to get into a traffic accident.” When he hadn’t been such an avid rider like he is now, the previous owner of the rundown moped had told him.

His daredevil spirit had died down a bit after that accident that nearly killed him. Not because of the foreign object poking out from his side and the loss of blood that followed that would get masked over with the more prominent evisceration on the left side, the growing flame that would eventually consume the crushed bike in whole and explode, along with his own pinned body. Thankfully, the bike itself hadn’t been tipped over and no other bones had been broken, although his ankles had been swollen and his ribs ached. It would prove that four of those were fractured and the doctor who had been stitching his wound up told him it was a miracle, considering how serious the accident looked and all, the bike had merely tipped over and spun across the asphalt, his helmet saving his head from shattering by the initial compact. There were days when he got his share of adrenaline through watching his ashen bangs scatter across his face without any protective gears on and that had been the blow in his gut. 

He doesn’t have to be a police officer or scene investigator to figure out from the skidded tire marks and the crumpled metal, the impact had been more than enough to send the driver off the front shield of the car, the death of the person inside the dark gurney would have been instantaneous. Never again after his own accident, he knew that his body would never be invincible. Although his skyrocketing ego had kept his confidence, skill and ability to maneuver the craft, but still, there had been so many variables when it came to motorcycle riding. At least cars had a roof over their heads and other safety devices already installed. 

As he dismounted from the bike as the congested traffic was held up for about twenty minutes before the police cleared enough of the scene to let the vehicles pass through, Nigel notices Adam walk in tottering steps. Not that uncommon with the first time riders. The strong vibration of the engine between the legs would be a muscle strengthening exercise on its own, his hips lifting in the air to counterbalance the velocity and his body’s resistance according to the speed. 

All the vivid lights of the police cars and the ambulance’s siren ringing against his eardrums beside him, he watches Adam’s excitement with amused hazel orbs, the irises sparkling like the twinkling stars above. The lightening flashes across the dark sky from afar. He hopes it wouldn’t rain for stargazing out on the rooftop if they were going to do that, but the sky remained clear and they had been glittering so far. 

“Oh, that’s fucking rad. That moon is fucking huge, and I thought moon was supposed to be yellow? I haven’t seen it fucking red like blood. I mean, some people made a fucking huge deal about it, what was so fucking special about this particular one?” His tongue swiping the back of his teeth, he swallows dry, wanting to quench his thirst. The sweat had been drying off and his heated body had been cooling off, but all the crowd gathered around the scene and the news broadcast team recording and all the cameras and lights had made the ambiance rather suffocating.

“Yeah, I know where the fucking observatory is. It’s on one of the big roads that cross the city. Popular tourist destination, although I didn’t fucking care to go inside to bother to look at what they have.” Gracefully swinging his leg over to hop on the Ducati once again as soon as the road clears, the cars begin to speed up on the four-lane road, like a dam breaking. Soon, the accident is long forgotten as the medical personels and law enforcement leaves. Then, his tensed muscles loosen, two of his most hated professionals right under his nose. He fucking hated hospitals and police officers for the reason he had despised them to his bone. Once he had been falsely accused of a crime he didn’t commit and he had a panic attack in the holding cell. That mere thought appalled him greatly.

“We fucking lost time, so I hope I can pick up the fucking speed to get us there. Do they have a fucking cocktail bar? I need to eat something and a goddamn drink.” Adjusting the helmet around his head as few strands of hair peeks out the visor, he shoves them inside and pushes it down, urging Adam to do the same.


	8. Chapter 8

As a burst of lightning fractured the horizon, Adam felt the aftershock prickle up his arms, the low snap of thunder fizzling to a distant hum. He knew electrical storms were common in mid-latitude geographical regions, where the warm, moist air collided with cooler air higher-up in the atmosphere. The humidity of the Romanian summer had swollen as the evening drew on, and now reaching a precipice, seemed ready to spill into chaos.

With very little cloud cover so far, Adam guessed they would be able to make it to the Observatory before any downpour- he didn’t have an umbrella, and didn’t think one would be much use on the bike regardless. If they stopped at a gas station, he could always purchase two of those coloured rain-ponchos, which were both lightweight and highly flexible for sitting on a motorcycle. Remembering the array of colours they usually came in, he wondered if Nigel might prefer bright red or pink, judging by the fiery tones of the motorcycle. And that might give him a chance to obtain some food and a bottle of wine or champagne too, since, from his experience visiting many other observatories, they didn’t have much in the way of drinks or nightlife.

As Adam scrambled back onto the bike, he noticed Nigel’s expression had changed. Seeing where Nigel was looking- straight toward the emergency response units- he considered that there might be something about seeing these people that was upsetting to him too, but wasn’t quite sure what it was. As the line of traffic hadn’t yet cleared, he decided there was time to hug Nigel from behind. Not a please-don’t-let-me-fall-off kind of hug, but more gentle, like an I-want-to-make-it-okay kind of hug.

Hoping to make sure Nigel understood that it was the second sort of hug and not the first, Adam curved his arms over the man’s torso, squashing Nigel’s own arms down against his sides. It occurred to Adam that Nigel’s back felt even better when he didn’t have the helmet on his head. His ear pressed up against the twine of muscle to each side of the man’s spine, he could feel Nigel’s chest contract with his breathing, the smooth scent of ash and fuel and liquor unwinding from his shirt. He imagined he could hear the coarse throb of Nigel’s heartbeat, though in truth he knew it was probably only his own pulse echoing back through his eardrum.

“A lunar eclipse is always special” Adam murmured, feeling the shift in Nigel’s hips as he seemed to lean back to listen. “It’s the moment when the sun, the earth and the moon align- when their paths all collide.” He loosened his arms, letting his palms fall softly at Nigel’s lap. “It’s red for the same reason the sunset is red- rayleigh scattering of blue light due to refraction through the earth’s shadow.” Adam took a gulp of air, about to launch into further explanation of orbital nodes, when another splash of lightning lit across Nigel’s attentive expression, and Adam realised that wasn’t what he wanted to say at all. “I mean… its special, because, with a solar eclipse, you can only see it from one small part of the world, and only for a few minutes. When there’s a lunar eclipse, no matter what time, no matter where you are on the night-side of the world- everyone can look up and see the same rare moon.”

He held on a few seconds more, watching the cast of the oncoming headlights against Nigel’s jawline, before the face was hidden by the visor, once more obscure as the night. Releasing him, Adam poked his head into his own helmet, repositioning himself to the rolling hull of the bike. As they wove into the darkness, this time he felt ready.

____

Suddenly, his palm feels sweaty as his broad, calloused surface coats with a thin layer. His mind still reeling from the accident, his body remembers the time and he can feel his heart rate escalate, as if electrical current, not unlike the distant thunder of the storm had produced roaring sound even from miles away. The excruciating pain that traveled from his left side as the distorted and sharply shaved metal had torn his epidermal layer of the skin, blood gushing out like the fire hose building pressure from inside. Jets of crimson had painted the glass and rocks off the bluff mere few feet away from where his body laid. Aware from many previous experiences, removing a foreign object from his body would be detrimental and the risk of exsanguination and infection dramatically increased. However, he didn’t want to become a human barbeque as the growing golden ball right next to him threatened him even more. The sheer smoldering heat enough to make him to be covered with sweat and tears from the smoke. All the orifices spilling fluid, his extremities began to move in order to swing himself away from the danger. 

The worse sight of all was the fuel trickling down and wetting his frayed shirt and his body, connecting himself with the imminent danger. When he watches the shirt tangled against his blood and flayed against the shrapnel of the chrome plated body, the inflamed bike had exploded with a bang as he felt the stifling heat radiate in suffocating waves as the setting sun inflamed the entire sky in golden and orange tones, not unlike how his entire left side had been flung with crackling fire that traveled towards him with the breeze sweeping him. Enveloped in heat of the fire and the warmth of blood soaking his side as he laid on his side, the scrape from the burn as he moved across the graveled ground in a haste, throwing himself away from more imminent threat that could’ve ended in a catastrophe. Charred, covered in third or fourth degree burn, looking more like a monster that he had been in his real life. Like a true predator having no remorse of tearing through its prey, he had been becoming the true animal he had been, a n usurper disguised as a benefactor, he had no remorse or regret of taking other people’s life. 

Behind his closed off visor, Nigel’s eyes fixate upon the police officer’s baton hanging off from the man’s belt, right next to the revolver tucked under the uniform. Not that he had feared any law enforcement, he had sneakily and cunningly evaded the pinning. Perhaps other people would call him to be “Machiavellian,” as he moved like a snake. Sensuous, graceful, with his typical swaggering movement of evil, cruel tug of his usually seductive, pink and full lips. Able to whisper nectarous sweetness as well as the most wicked and cruel profanities without ever turning the color of his face nor his sangfroid expression, cold like the arctic whirl of the wind. But this man, who had masked all of his insecurities behind his false sense of expressing his true sentiments and degrading others to make him elevated by propelling his egotistical tendencies, had been feeling something entirely different from the younger man who he couldn’t seem to understand. 

Well aware of people’s intentions, but not having a single strand of understanding of what Adam’s hug might mean, the muscles slightly tense as his usual slouched shoulders straighten, his curled spine arching back up in a smooth S-shape as his chest expands, rising and falling more rapidly. It could be the reverberation from the engine underneath him revving again, as it begins to heat up. Don’t, don’t fucking hug me like this. I’m not a fucking good man, Adam, I fucking kill people for pleasure and my personal gain. His eyes fluttering close, he surely knows he can overpower Adam’s hold and let himself free, but his strong and rapidly beating heart and cold back, as the sweat had been evaporated faster than ever under the dankness of the Romanian summer. 

Adam’s eager expression of the solar and lunar eclipse becoming a white noise of the distance, his consciousness picks up a few distinctive words. ‘special,’ ‘collide,’ and ‘rare.’ However the unique and almost serendipitous their meeting had been, from the first knowing glance of the younger man who is hopelessly addicted to everything space and a bit of socially awkward, however, nothing is off-putting or he hadn’t been perplexed so far. Utterly in opposite spectrum, the S and N on the magnet. So far away from each other, but once they clicked, it could be so difficult to let Adam go. 

“Where are you from, the States?” His voice trailing off and muffled by the roaring engine as he turns the handle, the bike makes an onrush into the darkness as the exhaust pipe puffs thick continuous line of white trailing them behind. The rush of cool air makes his thumping heart squeezed, the feel of Adam’s head against the smooth dip of his expansive back ingrained in his brain as blood circulates upward. The moon seem to follow them on the side, although he knows it doesn’t do that.


	9. Chapter 9

Shielded from the oncoming rush of wind as they picked up speed, Adam watched the flashing silhouettes of the trees scrape into the blackness behind, the road now open as the bike whipped into a steady incline. From the edge of the curving hillside, he had a clear view of the city ahead. Vast and golden, the whole of Bucharest seemed to emanate from a single whorl at its middle, the lights, buildings and monuments leaking outwards in infinite geometrical patterns. There was no order or recognisable structure- it seemed the city had clawed its way from the ground, or exploded in a luminous burst of radiation. It didn’t look like California, or even New York. No wonder Nigel is so unrestrained, Adam thought. His home is a supernova.

“Yes, I live in America!” Adam shouted, his throat dry from the exhilaration. “I build microcircuits for satellite guidance and navigation systems at the Mount Wilson Observatory, located in the San Gabriel Mountains near Pasadena, northeast of Los Angeles County!”

His arms jumping higher up Nigel’s chest as he felt the bike ease back downward, it suddenly occurred to Adam that he had so far neglected all of the proper etiquette when it came to introductions. His worry and panic over his schedule going awry was no excuse. He had learnt that the foundation of interpersonal relationships was trust, and he could hardly expect Nigel to feel comfortable around him if he hadn’t even shared the most basic facts about himself.

“I used to have a job in programming at the Well-Made-Toy Manufacturing Corporation, 52-57 Flushing Avenue, Maspeth, New York City! Then my father died, I got fired, and I couldn’t afford the mortgage repayments on my house, so I had to get another job… and I did!” Adam could still remember every question and answer he had given at the interview, as well as the countless others he had rehearsed in preparation. “At first I didn’t think I could move, because I didn’t think I could… do things by myself. It’s not always easy for me to… do things that aren’t the same.”

Seeing they were nearing a gas station, he nudged Nigel’s shoulder, indicating he should pull over so that Adam could fetch some supplies. The hiss of the exhaust swallowed in a growl of thunder, he gave Nigel a reassuring smile, knowing some people were made uncomfortable by the sort of admission he had just made. “But then, I realised, when it’s the right sort of thing… I can.”

Darting toward the automatic glass doors, Adam was immediately astounded by the range of unfamiliar snack foods available for purchase. Knowing Nigel had said he was hungry and thirsty, Adam did not want to deliberate too long on his choices, and he knew he was prone to overthinking such decisions given the chance. Snatching up bags of what looked like caramel popcorn, mixed nuts, strawberry-filled biscuits and a small bottle of something called ‘Afinata’, he decided that would have to do for the trip to the Observatory, and besides, he didn’t think he could squeeze much more in his backpack if he tried.

Facing the counter, he made a quick inspection of the various odds and ends. Rain ponchos were not among them, and nor did the Store Attendant speak English. With a quick glance toward Nigel, who he hoped wouldn’t be too perplexed as he waited on the bike, Adam commenced an elaborate mime of the oncoming storm, followed by pulling an invisible hood over his head with the intention of keeping dry. The Attendant stared back rather stoically, then offered Adam some chewing gum.

As Adam sprinted back to the bike, he could have sworn Nigel was smirking at him, though the intermittent flashes of lightning on the horizon made it all that much harder to decipher. They were certainly causing nervous twitches at the corners of Adam’s own mouth, particularly as he noticed a cloud had started to bruise the furthest boundaries of the sky.

“Okay, we are good to go!” Adam chirped, his third hop onto the seat the smoothest yet. Feeling the familiar surge of the throttle between his legs as the engine reignited, he realised there was another essential aspect of courteous introductory conversation that he had very nearly missed. “And what to you do for a living, Nigel?”

____

The slender and sporty bike could be compared to a toned and muscular man, not too unlike himself. It didn’t have any problem making uphill or downhill, no matter how steep the incline and decline had been. As they slowly distance close to the heart of the city and the road stretches upon them like a continuous stream of light, unrelenting and unhindered, the bike picks up speed as if it had been getting sucked into a black hole. All the rows of trees and occasional buildings becoming a mere blur as the world seem to still, the bike, with him and Adam on the road, it’s everything he can ask for right now. However eccentric and little quirky and silly their encounter had been and he still didn’t understand the slight awkwardness Adam had carried upon himself, all he knew was that he wasn’t going to point a gun barrel at the man sitting behind him. Usually, he had been extremely sangfroid and nonchalant when it comes to strangers and his work required for him to be vigilant at all times. Always on the balls of his feet, having a high-risk and high-profit job meant that his body was going to suffer that much. 

That had made him very quick-tempered and volatile like highly inflammable methane, seemingly non harmful as it has no odor, taste or color, but the truth was that it is a major contributor to global warming and extremely flammable. The society would be more better off without a man like Nigel, but he wasn’t going to let the social norm reduce him to be the most notorious drug lord of Bucharest, known for cruelty and ruthlessness. He has no fucking idea what all of those jargon Adam speaks, technical terms that passes through one ear and exits other as soon as it does. “Okay, so you live in the west coast, I’ve never been there in my life. I’ve been to New York though. That’s where I am planning to relocate after I get the fucking new business going.” He proudly states, all of his energy had been concentrated into researching the conservation and restoration of the replicated paintings and materials. Not a thing could go wrong as all of his savings had been invested in the new business. And he had the most important heist that could fund him to move to America, so he could go back and forth to have a foot each on two continents, overseeing the growing empire.

“Oh, fucking wonderful, so you’ve lived in New York before, how was that like and since you have experience with living in both east and west coast, what can you tell me about, where do you like more then?” He always had desired to live in the big cities as that’s where all the money had gone. The Big Apple would be the most perfect candidate, he already had few people who rolled in riches, who wouldn’t even blink if he had sold them container full of pure coke, or replica of paintings and prints from seventeenth and eighteenth century, using historically correct pigments and materials. Feeling Adam’s stance ease against him as the movement against his back and the voice had been relaxed, an obvious sign that Adam started to trust him and consider him as a companion to be depended upon. 

The shiny and thick exhaust pipe letting out a dark cloud of smoke which dissipates into the damp air in a haste, Nigel pulls the bike over in front of the gas station. No need to refuel as the bike already had three quarter full of fuel still inside the tank. “That sucks fucking balls, but oh well, once you fucking set your mind to it, nothing is impossible.” Pulling the bike towards the front of the store and far enough from the gas hoses, his long, muscular leg unwinds from the sleek body, leaning against the heavy metal still vibrates and emits the remaining heat onto his backside. Taking out a fresh cigarette from the half-empty cigarette pack, he lights the smoke and takes much needed inhale, immediately needing the nicotine rush. The smoke hanging off from his index and middle finger in a loose grip, he doesn’t bother to take off the helmet, Adam’s silhouette visible against the translucent door with the glass pane. 

In his forty-nine years of his life, he was sure more than half of those years were spent as smirking and even if he had tried to put on the most flawless poker face in front of all the others he had faced, one end of his lips would be minutely turned upward. A particular expression could be easily linked to him, his shameless self-respect and ego exuding off from the cruelly curved lips. The low beam making a cone pattern in front of the bike as it lights Adam’s way back to the bike, the butt crushes under his heavy boots, he inspects the content of the brown bag the younger man brings. What he expects mostly, he hadn’t had sweet snacks in forever, but the thing it catches his utmost attention is the bottle of Afinata, a bottle of blueberry brandy which he loved. Something fruity, but the mix of alcohol made everything better. 

“Well, you’re obviously so fucking excited, that’s good.” Adam’s uplifted and ecstatic mood chasing his exhaustiveness away and soon, his slight hungover melted away by expelling of the trace of alcohol in his body, the bike makes a smooth U pattern and bends to return to the road. “I own a nightclub called Krystal Glam in the heart of the city, you should fucking come sometime. I can make you a drink and we can hang out there.” The distinct and characteristic shape of the anchored boat appears soon before their sight. “Well, we’re fucking here. So it’s time for you to show me some motherfucking magic.”


	10. Chapter 10

As they cede to the concrete curb, Adam found himself struck by two significant thoughts. At the very front of them was the building, a fusion of 19th century gothic architecture and minimalism. A great ship of metal and glass, its domes and balconies all reached to collide with the sky, the wide hull swooping over the surrounding pavement. They had reached the Observatory. His second thought was equally important- he had just told Nigel the three most awful and significant events of his life, and Nigel hadn’t even flinched. Death was the kind of topic that was often followed by more silence rather than more talking, but Nigel had been completely unfazed- he wasn’t treating Adam differently at all. At the mention of New York City, Nigel had even become increasingly animated, yelling about sucking and the West Coast and balls and his new business. Adam kind of liked it.

“Well, New York is… taller” Adam started, his hands shivering as he unclipped his helmet. “It’s brighter, it’s busier… it’s very organised, if you want it to be… but not in all the sections. You sort of have to… know your way around.” He couldn’t help wonder what it would be like to show Nigel Manhattan, and whether there might be some sights Nigel would really like to see. He said he owned a nightclub- maybe Nigel would enjoy a stroll through the busy Lower East Side, or even the repurposed standbys in West Village. “Um- well, if you ever do go there- if your business works out, I mean- you could always call me if you needed a guide. I could… fly over to visit. We have a corporate Star Alliance account at work, so domestic flights are no problem.”

Listening to the sound of his voice as the offer came tumbling out, Adam hardly knew where it came from. He had hardly visited the Lower East Side nor West Village when he was living several blocks away, yet the idea of making the journey all the way from California now seemed completely reasonable, if it meant he’d be the one to show Nigel something he’d remember too.

Skipping a few backwards steps, he waved for Nigel to follow. Like most Observatory gateways, the one to the Amiral Vasile Urseanu rooftop had been left unlocked, all the expensive equipment stowed in the interior at the close of business. At Mount Wilson, they’d had enough students booking the rooftop that gate had been removed entirely, thanks to the surprising frequency with which budding astronomers seemed to accidentally lock themselves in. Not wishing the same to occur in Bucharest, Adam checked the lock three times, before deciding it was rusted to the point that not even a key could have made a difference either way.

Swallowing through the heartbeat at his throat, he took the external stairs to the rooftop two at a time, feeling as jittery as when he gave his first ever stargazing tour. Since then, he’d learnt that people from all walks of life could be interested in hearing about space. The one thing they had in common was hoping to be blown away, whilst at the same time, very much doubting they would be. After all, people were used to glancing up at the sky and not seeing anything spectacular. But as Adam knew, that was only because they didn’t know what to look for.

The rooftop was of worn concrete, streaked with red where lines of rust had washed from the edge of the dome in the centre. Kneeing on the ground, Adam tore back the zipper of his backpack, the laptop and various necessities for an overnight layover spilling out in every direction. Resisting the urge to reorder the objects into a neat pile, Adam instead reached for the hard plastic case of his telescope, pulling back the clips for the first time. Inside, he found the 6x30 finder scope, SR4, super 10 and super 25, the alt-azimuth mount and aluminum tripod with accessory tray.

“The reason the Saxon Pioneer is so portable-” he started, carefully taking out the mount plate, “is because of the lightweight optical tubes. These ones are specially manufactured in compressed lengths, but being a two-element fully multi-coated objective refractor, we can still see rich-field views with very little chromatic aberration.”

Adjusting the polar alignment of the finderscope, Adam tightened the hinges on the tube mounting rings, ensuring the rotation and balance felt correct. “So, with the right filtering, that means all the clusters, star fields, nebulae, planets, auroral galaxies, the moon, the sun-” he paused to refill on air “-will actually appear very sharp and crisp. Like wearing goggles when you open your eyes underwater, compared to… not wearing goggles.”

Checking the focus, Adam gently directed the lens over the city skyline, wondering if he might catch a glimpse of Nigel’s establishment. Krystal Glam, Nigel had called it. Adam thought this sounded very stylish, the kind of place he might have to wear his best suit to attend. He felt quite moved that Nigel had invited him, until the understanding dawned- he hadn’t told him yet. Adam twisted back toward his companion, auburn hair obscuring his untidy features as the wind picked up. Nigel didn’t realise he was only in Bucharest for one night.

And if Nigel didn’t end up flying to New York, it was possible, when the dark drained away… he might never see Nigel again. And still, Adam found himself answering with complete honesty.

“I would love to visit you there. I would… really like to do that.” His expression curving to a lopsided smile, he looked back down at the telescope. “Now- tell me what you see.”

____

The Amiral Vasile Urseanu Astronomical Observatory, it had been situated on one of the most important boulevards that went through the heart of the city, Boulevard Lascar Catargiu. His favorite Thai joint not too far away from the building, but he had never imagined stepping his feet into the building, let alone having a companion next to him who seemed to know a lot more about galaxies and space and anything associated with them more than he knew how to make friends. 

His lips sticking out in somewhat of an awe, the striking red dome soared to meet the darkened sky that glisten and sparkle with stars and the bright rough of the structure almost appears black under the moonlight. All it reminds him of is the sanguine seeping from the man’s head he had recently killed before taking on the New York excursion. His camouflaged and cloak-and-dagger room where he had tortured and killed people. The image of blood pouring out the bald man’s head exactly reminded him of that and he could feel the adrenaline pump through his head, not unlike the very day which he had been splattered in man’s blood all over his upper body. His palms getting sweaty, he discreetly rubs them against the leather-like jeans. 

“Of course it is, streets and avenues, gridded and easy to navigate, although I had mainly stayed in Upper East side and Times Square for fucking business purposes, it sure is the city that never sleeps, the perfect city for a nocturnal owl like me to reside in. I really hope everything fucking works out, perhaps I can even travel to California to visit you in Pasadena? I fucking missed all the good parts though, going into all the fucking joints for a burger and beer to all the exotic cuisines. I really wanted to try steakhouses and spicy foods, you know? I just want to jump from one restaurant to another and relax, fucking pig out and drink the fucking night away.” His low and husky voice echoes right through the walls of the building, the vaulted structure and beams inside making the building look more grandiose and stand tall against them. Surprisingly deserted and empty with only few people who looked like bookish nerds in his definition of people, he swaggers in long strides, casually glancing around the interior and the stairs leading towards the rooftop. His hand shoved inside the jacket pocket and his posture slouched as usual, as soon as they make it to their destination, a hand plucks out a cigarette from crushed pack of cigarettes, lighting it instantly as the metal door pushes open with a soft creak.

The outside air a bit more cooler as the sweat that clung onto his back and chest evaporated off, a hand pushes against his gold-capped and engraved handgun in inveterate gesture, pushing the barrel down and checking the hammer spur, a mere click and bump on the trigger could send him bleeding if not careful and he had seen so many gun experts accidentally get hurt in this way. If it doesn’t fire all the way, the burn of the gunpowder would leave a horrible burn. Shifting his gun and watching the puff of smoke fog up the view of Adam setting up the astronomical telescope with necessary equipments. 

For all he knows and cares, Nigel has no fucking clue what the younger man is talking about, but at least he could nod and tilt his head, giving an impression that he is listening, albeit not paying his utmost attention. Facepalming himself for only bringing a tiny flask full of whiskey instead of his usual medium-sized one which could hold half the content of the usual bottle he drinks. “So I guess they’re like camera filters? You know, the ones the photographers use to get all the damned effects, I’d guess it would make sense. Although I can see pretty well under water too.” With a sharp tilt of his head, he exhales the smoke and his own musk from his sweat, a faint scent of whiskey bourbon he had been drinking the night before still permeated through the pores of his skin and the threads of the thin t-shirt.

A thin trail of smoke drawing a ribbon in the air as his full lips uptilt the smoke, he squints his eyes as he lowers his body down, eying the lense of the telescope. “I see that distinctive ‘W’ shape, that’s Cassiopeia, correct? Ah, there’s Orion.” All the patterns and colors splotched, looking like stretched bands overwhelms his wide-blown eyes as he tilts his lips to take a deep huff, he crosses his legs. This shouldn’t interest him as much as it does right now, as he wasn’t the one to stare at the sky at given times and observe the constellations. 

“Când este zborul spre America, oh, fuck. When is the flight to America?” With a cross of his legs, he combs through his damp ashen locks and squints his eyes again, in attempt to find the North Star.


	11. Chapter 11

Adam was delighted. As much as Nigel said he didn’t know about constellations, he recognised the formations Adam had described to him in the carpark almost straight away. Watching Nigel sitting cross-legged to better lean into the small lens, he thought Nigel perhaps underestimated himself- he certainly had more of an eye for detail than he seemed to let show.

Softly kneeling down beside, Adam took his hand to where Nigel’s rested at the side of the finderscope. For all Nigel’s roughness, Adam thought he held the telescope rather gently, one eye squinted closed as his whole concentration fixed through the other. The half-smoked cigarette lay forgotten in his opposite hand, a splutter of ash on the stain of the concrete, a warm ribbon of smoke threading toward the volatile sky.

Waiting for the pulse of lightning to dribble back to dark, Adam let his palm fold around the back of Nigel’s hand, slowly guiding the telescope to point a fraction higher. Ensuring he had the angle just right, Adam carefully leaned over Nigel’s shoulder, close enough that he felt his cheek brush against Nigel’s hair. Under the starlight, Adam found the windswept strands rather beautiful. It was the kind of colour that made him think of malted ale, or a macchiato flecked with cream, all light and dark at once.

“This is the North Star” Adam murmured “Or Polaris- the star aligned with the Earth’s axis of rotation. It’s the point around which the entire Northern sky would appear to circle.” His chin brushing against Nigel’s collar, Adam felt the slight shift in Nigel’s posture as he rearranged with the turn of the telescope. He realised he had Nigel’s attention now, more than when he’d been explaining the application of the optical tubes, even more than when he’d spoken about the star-studded weapons. And it felt really good.

“Polaris marks the way due North. So as you face it, if you stretch your arms out sideways-” bending back a fraction, Adam demonstrated, one arm pointing in the direction they had travelled from, the other toward the heart of the city. “Your right hand will point due east, your left hand due west.”

Smiling, he remembered to pause. It was an important moment, and he didn’t want to rush things. As he lowered his arms, his wrist grazed over the small of Nigel’s back, catching the tilt of a heavier object. His line of sight following, Adam saw the brim of Nigel’s shirt lifted as he bent toward the telescope, revealing the margins of a handle- the same he had glimpsed earlier. In an instant, he realised where he had seen it before- what he was seeing now.

Nigel was not just the sort of man who went around offering lifts to strangers in need, or taking spontaneous sightseeing trips in the middle of the night. He was also the sort of man who carried a gun at the back of his belt. A gun that could be easily reached. A gun that he probably used sometimes. A gun that could kill people.

As Adam looked at the gun, the strange gilded metal licking the hem of Nigel’s bare skin, he knew he wasn’t afraid of it. Like any weapon, a gun was just an object. It was a person who pulled the trigger. And as he raised his eyes to Nigel’s profile, the light turn of his mouth as he listened to everything Adam had said- he realised he could never be afraid of him.

Shuffling closer once again, Adam let his knee bump over Nigel’s thigh as he assumed the same cross-legged position at the edge of the rooftop. “It’s a common misconception, but the North Star isn’t the brightest star in the nighttime sky. It’s actually the fiftieth in brightness. But most people don’t know that, and it doesn’t really matter anyway. Because it’s the easiest to find. And once you do, you can see it shining every night, anywhere under the Northern sky.”

His mouth pulling up at the corner as Nigel slipped into Romanian, Adam almost didn’t want to answer. Forcing himself to check his watch, he saw it had been almost three hours since his plane had landed, and only five more till the next one would leave.

“Take off is just after sunrise” he mumbled, managing to skim fairly close to Nigel’s gaze. “But even with just half a night… I’m glad I’m spending it right here. I’m glad it’s the half with you.”

Somewhere beneath the fiftieth-brightest-star, Adam saw the first drop of rain.

____

Having been a visual person in his entire life out of anything and having worked and relied too often with his hands and eyes coordinations, spotting the patterns in the night sky had almost came naturally. He’d forget all the jargons and technical words, those words passed inside him like chirping of birds or the smoke rising from his cigarette in a continuous thin trail. Something that he had known to be there in its existence, but never having a significant impact or influence for him to register and remember in detail. Associating the letter ‘W’ had been easy, as well as making his own personal connection with the warrior constellation Orion. 

The faint and thin trail of smoke rising from the unsmoked cigarette as it curves and twirls in the damp sky, the air much more thick and moist with humidity. That thunder in the distance echoes through the walls of the building as he feels a bit of ash scatter across the tip of his heavy boots. Taking a brief pause to refocus and to take much needed deep drag from unsmoked cigarette, a soft white smoke exits from his nostrils as he marvels at the view of the glimmering stars. Drawing the Orion’s pattern with his mind, connecting the sparkling dots that seems to speak to him. He had merely registered them as dots in the vast sky, something he can’t grasp the hold onto. Now looking at the viewfinder of the telescope, he feels the warmth press against his sweltering body, smoldering with heat as the humid air whips across his clinging t-shirt. His body already ran warm, but he didn’t mind another warm body, in fact, less warmer than his press against him in a rather comforting manner. He didn’t relish the physical touches often, although deep in his mind, he secretly and covertly desired it. 

His head mirroring Adam’s movement as the telescope tilts just a fraction, most of people would feel the usual emotion sweeping them, how they feel so small under the vast sky, the universe and all that shit, but not him. Nigel had felt the sense of comfortness, growing somewhat nostalgic, as he had no one to call him as friends, companions, people who had shared his interests. At his core, there had been the most loving and compassionate, lovable and gentle soul, masked by all the worldly sins. Damaged and corrupted. He killed without remorse, his sadistic urges were fulfilled by an occasional bout of his uncontrollable anger. Released in relentless punches and kicks, his face expressive, yet his eyes devoid of emotions. His self-destructive tendencies had been rampant with scars and cuts littered across his tanned olive skin that grew like well-worn patch of leather jacket, not unlike his own in the compartment.

Meeting Adam had been the most unexpected, as there were times when he wished to go back to his bleak and squalid flat and to spend the night as he often did, drowning in his loneliness with bottles of whiskey until the bottles became bone-dry and the smoke fogged up the room, not even ventilated until his room completely shrouded in foggy fume. Looking at the most prominent star that everybody knows as the common sense, people had relied on the sky for many many things. All he remembers from his childhood years had been playing with his toy gun with plastic pellets, shooting them over at the sky, watching the long arches continuously loop over and over as he flicked the trigger. The white balls rolling against the dirt and pavement of the deserted park. Sometimes he’d hear a leaf fall or a startled squirrel climb over the tree, fearing it had been seen. 

“Of course, you fucking aren’t most people. As I only knew it told direction. When I had been lose in the park and couldn’t find the fucking exit when I was young, it helped me to find my home.” He didn’t have a home, but at least where he had been sheltering at. By the huge dumpster with some cardboards and torn and ripped plastic sheets, held by some pipe he had procured at the construction site. Until he had garnered enough wads of bills to get him a roof over his head. Since then, it had been an consistent and continuous incline, at least financial-wise. He still had no one and even though he had an occasional romantic and sexual interests, those were short-lived, as they only saw his crude and rough exterior. Reducing him in one shallow and one-dimensional being. A violent gangster with bouts of anger issues, who did bad things. A baddie all around.

“Nu naibii merge înapoi. Nu mă lăsa în pace.” His voice trails off, just like his now short butt, almost to his fingers, burns off and lets off more faint line of white smoke. A raindrop hits square on his forehead and more erratic drops fall as the rain grows in its strength. A continuous stream falls onto his cheekbone as he parts from the viewfinder. Even without him realizing how contented he had been with the most eccentric and a kind of a person who he never gave thought of being together with, he had been genuinely sad to let another person in his life go like this.

Never like this. Too short-lived, a fleeting happiness.


	12. Chapter 12

As Nigel turned toward him, the low husk of Romanian curling under his breath, Adam finds, for the first time, he can hear the intention beyond the meaning of the words. It isn’t something he can translate- it’s something he can feel. Despite Nigel’s cursing, his confidence, his too-tight pants… Nigel doesn’t want to be alone. And more than that … he doesn’t want Adam to leave.

The understanding near left him winded. How could he possibly start to explain to Nigel, who had a word and a wink for every passing nuance; that actually being able to look at someone and get a glimpse of what they felt… if only for a split second… was as cataclysmic to him as all the galaxies in the universe shattering into one.

As the sky begins to sleek down Nigel’s face, slowly ebbing over all the strange and sharp edges, Adam can feel the pulsing rain fold in on him too. But he still can’t look away. It’s as if the world has been swallowed whole, the traffic washed into the gutters, the streetlights downed in the melting dark. All that remains is him and Nigel, the edge of the telescope and the blur of the stars.

Between the press of humid air, Adam sees the white brume of smoke escape Nigel’s lips, the blunt hiss of burning paper as the downpour washes over the cuff of the cigarette, still in his fingers. A sheet of rain lashing into his spine, Adam doesn’t move as the water spills through the length of his hair, draining over the soft arch of his cheeks and finally seeping beneath his cardigan, where he feels his body tremble despite the warmth.

Adam’s eyes travel down Nigel’s face too, catching on the brink of his jawline, then spiralling beneath his collarbone, carved and glistening. Adam imagines he can see the rise and fall of Nigel’s breath, his ribcage expanding beneath the drenched pull of the shirt. Their legs were still crossed, Nigel’s arms slouched toward his lap. The hew of his muscle looked somehow gentler in the fierceness of the deluge. The thunder reached a crescendo as a flag of lightning swung behind them. They were in the very centre of the storm. And Nigel wasn’t looking away.

His hands shaking, Adam reached for the tripod, collapsing the interlocking plates as he simultaneously dismounted the finderscope from the main bearing. The wet fastenings slipping between his fingers, it took a couple of tries, but the pieces finally dismantled, unfolding down into the plastic case. He nearly dropped it as he tried to get it closed. Nigel was still giving him that look.

Stumbling to his feet, Adam made for the dome of the Observatory and the metal frame of the door. For one fleeting second, he thought it might be open. But the handle was firm to his touch, the lock sealed fast. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Nigel had eased to his feet too, though he seemed to be in no hurry. Standing at the verge of the rooftop, Adam witnessed the whole city ripple behind them, a flare of blood and amber. As the hard streaks of light twisted through the broken clouds, Adam had never been so terrified. Or so enthralled.

Suddenly, Adam wasn’t thinking about his flight. He wasn’t thinking about the waning seconds, his dishevelled backpack, or even his telescope. He was thinking how sometimes, when you least expected it, amazing things landed right on your doorstep. Or moved into the flat upstairs. Or pulled up on a godawful motorcycle just as your plane happened to touch down.

But sometimes…

You had to make amazing things happen yourself.

Letting go of the handle, Adam turned on his heel, striding back toward Nigel, never breaking his gaze. Reaching through the thick of the torrent, he moved his hands behind Nigel’s scalp, winding his fingers through the soak of hair. His heart pounding through his chest, Adam pulled Nigel down and against him. He wasn’t sure if he would ever breathe again. But if this was taking a chance, or suffocating, or feeling, or all three, it was everything that was amazing. And he didn’t let go.

____

With the blinding brightness of the thunder painting the sky as the roar almost rattles the observatory’s walls, the cigarette extinguishes as more rain falls onto the rooftop. The fat raindrops increases in amount, they begin to drench his long ashen locks in a mere second, his eyes briefly close as a particularly large one strikes just under his eyelids, wetting his lash and soaking his pupil, which makes him slightly wince. 

His confidence and swearing had been the mere thin strip of metal plate, really. Easily bendable, penetrable, malleable and almost nonexistent in front of his most vulnerable emotion of all. All and all, it had been his way of defending his insecurities and fears. Not ever finding someone who he clicked with, to have a chemistry. No matter how much the other had shared the similar interest with, no one had clicked with him. And here he was, instead of drowning himself in narcotics and booze, he had been immersed in constellations and space. The sky now painted in thick shades of gray and yellow and white sparks, particularly illuminating one in a shape of tree’s roots. 

The white noise of the rain drowning out the cars sliding and splashing water against the asphalted road and the soft glows of luminous lights of buildings and streetlights of Bucharest upon them, the time seems to stop with two of them, soaking wet as his thin t-shirt does nothing to hide the outline of his torso. His dark and silvery chest fluff visible under the fabric where it had been especially threadbare, the defined pectorals and abs, the dip along the center as his chest rises and falls slowly and deeply. His locks adhere to his sharp cheekbones, and pokes his eyes, which he closes his eyes and flings across rather carelessly. With the turn of his head, a stripe of water trickles down from his hairline, dripping over the pin-up girl tattoo on his neck. 

The heat seems to rise from his scalp as the water quenches his smoldering flame burning inside his core, he silently thanked the rain for the moment of weakness. What he considered too emotional and vulnerable. He wasn’t the one to openly show anyone his most raw and unrestrained emotions. That little bit of tear just made him realize he didn’t want to let go of the younger man. Too many times he had seen others leave him. Not this time, no.

Uncrossing his legs and getting up as Adam puts the finderscope away, then he pushes his locks away with both of his hands, wiping away all the rolling drops away as he feels the back of his hair continue to drip beads of rainwater onto the dip of his spine. His soulful eyes not having lost their intenseness, although they remain a bit filmy. From the residual tears, or it might be the rainwater adding to the effect. Although he loved the petrichor of the rain, his body had remembered it. All the complications and infections he had to go through, his body still suffered from it. As he gets up, the still distorted and reddened edge of the gash spasms as if it is vibrating on its own. It doesn’t ache or too much of a hinderance anymore as he had gotten used to it. 

“That won’t be fucking difficult to open. As easy as a fucking pie, just a simple tweak with the pin and the thin blade. I’ve picked locks such as these before.” Standing in his slouched and carefree stance as a hand shoves inside his jeans pocket, the heavy denim begins to absorb all the liquid that trail along his clinging shirt, he can even feel some wet his rear as his oblique muscles ripple, taking a step to look at Adam trying to open the locked door. 

His unwavering gaze moving upward as Adam lets go of the handle with a determined eyes, blue orbs crash with his own, fire meeting water. Another thundering clamor rattles his eardrum, but he doesn’t budge. Feeling the moisture land on the cupid’s bow as his lips purse, he doesn’t have to have sixth sense to know what’s coming. The feel in his bones urges him to do exactly the same thing. 

It is now or fucking never. He’d like to believe this isn’t going to be the last time.

As Adam distances closer, his wet lashes stick to the thin skin underneath his eyelids, his eyes fluttering close, bracing for what is coming. Tilting his lips and surging into the kiss, his broad hand strokes the side of Adam’s face, an arm winding across the shorter man’s hips, taking a sure step, another one after another, towards the locked door. His tongue pushing inside to savor the exquisite taste as the ardent and passionate kiss deepens, his hand on Adam’s hipbone sneaks inside the layers of clothes to seek bare skin, searching for warmth. “We need to keep ourselves dry, lemme fucking open the door.” Reluctantly parting from the kiss as his full lips brush against Adam’s cheek, he whispers against his ear, taking out his Swiss Army knife with various tool attachment. After a few tweaks with the handle itself and between the lock and the flame, the metal door to the observatory opens. “Told you, it’d be fucking easy.” With a conceited smirk, the tip of his heavy boot pushes the door open, revealing a darkened room with a vaulted ceiling, the red dome and a huge telescope set in the middle of it.


	13. Chapter 13

Nigel's mouth crushed against his own, and in an instant, Adam was undone. Stand on tiptoe to reach, Nigel had leant down too, their arms crossing over as Nigel's palm found the turn of Adam's cheek. For a hand that also held a gun, Nigel’s touch was soft as it was careful, much like Adam would handle what he feared might break. That gentle clasp alone sent a pulse of adrenaline through Adam’s chest, wrapping around his throat and snaking below the nape of his neck. As each of Nigel’s fingers grazed toward his hairline, the thumb folding under the slip of his jaw, Adam squeezed his eyes shut, the sensation overwhelming him.

A polar opposite, he felt the vicious warmth of Nigel's tongue, beautiful and relentless, consuming him from within. As a fresh welt of lightning bled across the horizon, Adam leant in close, the tip of his nose brushing against the side of Nigel's. He could feel the rainwater dripping from the ends of Nigel's hair above him, a splatter of tiny orbs catching against his eyelashes, then dribbling down over the press of their lips. Behind them, Adam saw the sundrenched heat of the ground slowly rise in a lucent mist, leeching up through the onslaught and back to the swollen sky. Inhaling harshly, he relinquished to the chaos, pulling the man deeper into his hold.

Forcing his gaze against Nigel's, Adam dared to understand what he saw staring back- some kind of emotion piercing the indefinable darkness. Nigel's eyes are raw and unbent, a certain violence tearing against the brink of his control. Clenching his fingers ever tighter through Nigel's hair, every nerve in Adam's body contracts in response. He feels the edge of Nigel's hand trace beneath his shirt, the roughness of his fingertips bending to the smooth contour of Adam’s hip. In the thrust of the storm, the light touch feels no less than an anchor between them. 

One step at a time, Nigel gently steers him backward, guiding him up against the frame of the skydome. Not needing to look, Adam allows his body to mirror the dance, his mouth still hung loosely ajar, wet from the kiss. An unfiltered shiver courses down his spine as he feels Nigel lean to his ear, murmuring about wanting to keep them dry. Suddenly, Adam sees the slim flicker of something sharp and silver, a finely tuned blade swiftly wielded in the turn of Nigel’s hand.

_Jeepers_ Adam thought. _This escalated quickly!_

The next second, he sees Nigel is only taking the knife to the keyhole, a single agile twist rendering the lock useless. As the door swung open, Adam inhaled the familiar scent of a chamber built several decades past, all dusty oakwood and chorded steel. The ceiling surges from opposite sides above them, melding to the expansive red curve, the reflection of the skylight casting unearthly glow around the corners of the telescope.

With the throb of rain amplified by the arch of the dome, the enormous piece of equipment looks alien even to Adam, rearing up and over the mounting pier like an intergalactic warship, or a rocket poised ready to launch. And then there was Nigel, pulling him inside with that same, enigmatic smirk that seemed to leak right into Adam’s veins. His lungs still fraught with exhilaration, Adam’s breath came in a heavier tone. He tried to remember all the things he had learnt when it came to expressing desire. The list wasn’t very long. Beth had said she needed time. That she needed to take things slow.

Hesitating, Adam wasn’t sure this was the same. Trembling through his soaked clothing, he couldn’t help be aware that time was one thing they didn’t have. And… Nigel definitely wasn’t giving him the look that said _go slow_. 

____ 

His fierce eyes scanning through the room in an instant, like a searching drone honing for its targeted enemy, a predator closing in for a kill. The heavy thunder reverberates through the walls as he feels the static energy carry through him as his own heart thunders from the previous kiss, he savors the lingering taste as seemingly unending and continuous orbs of raindrop fall beneath his drenched figure. The film of moisture under him sleek and reflecting the vast vault of the cadmium tones, so much vivid and reflecting. The pitch darkness and the contrasting glass panes that oscillate with dripping raindrops, thumping heavily than ever. Even more locked in his own world, the cityscape and rooftops that decorate the horizon outside the blurred view merely becomes specks of various paint strokes, planes of colors as his mind closes in into their auras. His own warmth radiating off from the soaked wet clothes like an aura surrounding him.

Considering the amount of rain it pours and the thunders’ frequency, Nigel figures the rain would be quick passing, by the time when Adam’s flight rolls around, it would be either delayed or cancelled if the amount persisted.  Dâmbovița River had been flooded too often before the dam had been built and although there wasn’t any imminent danger of one happening, but he secretly hoped that something would happen to divert the flight. Or out of the spur, he could follow Adam to the States, curtailing his plans to move to America. He could settle in New York while the real estate dealt with his flat and the club. He’d still remain as the owner, taking small percentages and giving out rents. 

The metal door slowly closing, the torrential rain continuing to enter inside the observatory through the slitted door as the moist wind sweeps across,  the cemented floor gives off its coolness, all hidden and contained inside the architecture. Sealing off the only exit they’re allowed to use, his upturned gaze locks and travels the length of Adam’s shuddering body. Smirking a mysterious way as his heavy boots echo through the expansive vault of the crimson dome, a drop of rain wets his heavy lashes, unblinking and transfixed to Adam. Nothing unbridled, acquiescing to his carnal desires. His corporeality seeks the closeness and intimateness. In all the times he had prescind his thoughts from relinquishing to his side that had remained to be seen, often misconstrued. All his tight grip of cholers having dissipated into his softer and affectionate side. 

Never had Nigel felt inquietude at the prospect of parting with someone who he had bonded with in such brief amount of time. Like being in the absolute silence, which he despised and hated to the core, the thought of being left alone makes difficult for him to remain poised. Such felicitous occasion, almost serendipitous. His two broad hands rounding the curve of Adam’s shoulder, his head tilts and surges once again to meet his lips against the younger man’s as his step slowly backs against the stone wall, hard and colder than anything else he had felt outside. 

Smitten with the feel of Adam’s lips, so different from his own, warm, but smaller, sweeter and devourable. Adam’s face disappears behind his broad hands as the fervent kiss continues, until his chest sticks out to brush against the smaller man’s, the thundering heart thumping against his throat as he parts. The hand on the curve of Adam’s defined jaw traveling southward to stroke the sides, feeling the gentle arch and curve of the waist through the hips. His warm digits burning into the skin, his exploring movement continues until his hand cups under Adam’s ass, lifting him up to roll his hips against. 

Pinning the smaller man up as if he was giving a piggyback but in an opposite side, his face buries into Adam’s neck, nuzzling into the chilled skin. “You feel fucking cold, perhaps I could warm you in the most fucking appropriate ways.” His head tilting yet again in a serpentine motion, about to constrict the prey in his tight grip. “I am fucking suggesting we succumb to copulatory… activities hedonistically.” His growing interest brushing between Adam’s legs, the fire within him spread throughout him like a wildfire as his slender finger make a quick work of removing his clinging t-shirt over his head.


	14. Chapter 14

Caught between the unforgiving press of the wall and the tender clasp of Nigel’s hands at his cheek, Adam feels his breath shudder to a halt, his whole body clenching in fevered expectation. The kiss is relentless, all lilting and voracious at once. Adam feels his blood surge to the pitch of euphoria, a choked gasp escaping his lips as he feels Nigel’s palms travel down the dips and edges of his torso, gripping hard above his thighs and pinning his back to the cold stone.

The slender muscle of his legs firmly wrapped about Nigel’s hips, his skin coils to the velvety drawl of Nigel’s voice, his lips brushing the soaked flesh of Adam’s neck. The words, barely more than husky murmur, strike both thirst and desire to the pit of his being. The suggestion, low and ravenous, provokes his excitement, and Adam tightens his legs, constrained by the firmness of Nigel’s hold.

It only takes a single fluid motion, and Adam can no longer feel the drenched fabric tugging against his hands, but the wet of Nigel’s muscle, sleek and hot to his touch. In the beating darkness, the light pulsing and receding through the waves of rain across the skylight, Adam lets his hands trace down Nigel’s neck, hesitating at the sharp curve of his collarbone. He can feel Nigel breathing now, the throb of his heartbeat beneath the rougher graze of hair at his chest. His fingertips tremble as he chases both palms further down, traversing the carve of Nigel’s abdomen, hardened with the exertion of binding Adam against the wall.

As a scrape of light breaches the doorway, Adam can see the scar clearly now, gaping and remorseless, biting a path through his flesh. Gentle, Adam winds the heel of his hand over the shadow of the affliction, a surge of longing rising to meet his hunger.

_I want you_ , Adam thought.  _Not just the you that other people see, but this too. I want to know. I want all of you._

Out loud, this translates into a far clearer directive.

“ _…Don’t stop…_ ”

Shivering and sweating at once, Adam snatches a hand to the back of his cardigan, tearing the soaked cotton over his back and letting it spill to the ground. The collared shirt is a bit more difficult. His pale fingers trembling over the buttons, he isn’t quite as graceful as he might have liked, but all things considered, Adam settles on being pleased he didn’t get his arms tangled up as he wriggled out of the sleeves.

Folding tightly against Nigel’s chest, Adam winds a hand to the back of Nigel’s neck, supporting himself as he rears to the unyielding concrete of the wall. His other follows the line of Nigel’s stomach, down to the ridge pressing into his inner thigh. Roiling up into Nigel’s gaze, the fire that seemed to consume everything he had ever thought or been told about himself… Adam wanted to make sure he was displaying the correct signals in return.

“If…by that, you mean we should have really crazy and energetic sex right here in this Observatory… I would really, really like to do that.”

____

His hard, toned body and sun-kissed skin revealed under the soaked white shirt as his chest lifts with escalating arousal, more beads of rainwater rolls off his silvery fluff on his chest, dripping down the defined dip of his pectorals and abdominal muscles. Each crude stitch on the gash still visible as darkened discoloration on his skin marks litter diagonally across his left side, running from just under the armpit, looking like a blown up caterpillar crawling on his skin as it ends just next to his navel. The infection and complication on the ill-treated laceration still affecting his movement as the sensitive skin spasms erratically, the epidermal layer tightening around the flabby skin. 

His stormy hazel eyes about to bring on the tempest as his fierce gaze penetrates through Adam’s bright blue, the touch on the scar sends something other than the sparking sensation. No one had dare touched him in the way Adam had just done. Opening his vulnerability yet it was the evidence of all of his struggles accumulated into one particularly stark and prominent feature. Eyes carefully trailing Adam’s hand as his sensuous lips slack a bit, something between a sigh and a sharp exhale lifts and presses his chest flush against Adam’s now unclothed torso. Tanned olive meeting pale alabaster skin as their flesh begins to mingle. 

The look on his face says everything as the corner of his lips curl, his pronounced cheek plumping as he smirks.  _Why the fuck would I stop when I have you, all fucking cornered, almost helpless in my snare?_  His sensual, serpentine movement continues, like the cold-blooded predator moving to constrict his prey as it coils upward, but his body feels scorching, the wildfire spreading as his core burns with the onslaught of stimulation. The coldness of the rain and the elements dissipated long, the ardent want takes over as he relinquishes his control to his carnal desire. 

His downward gaze locked against the belt around Adam’s trousers, his deft and slender fingers swiftly move to quickly get to work on removing the only few layers blocking from conjointness. As soon as the layers get discarded just enough to feel Adam’s erection spring out above the bunched clothes brushing against his tight abdomen, a hand props underneath the younger man’s ass, lifting him up and guiding his length as soon as his own tight jeans and boxers gets lowered to reveal his hard and flushed rod beginning to bead glistening liquid at the end of the slit. 

“Have you ever fucking fucked by a man, I won’t be fucking gentle.” His characteristically low and husky voice dropping down as it seems to ensnare with inescapable cage, his nose nuzzles deep against the sensual curve of Adam’s neck, warm and full lips glide across the sensitive skin, scenting Adam’s natural fragrance as his sharp canines pierce the skin, slowly feeling the crunch underneath as he marks the other man on the sharp curve on the jaw. Feeling the surge of blood wet his lips as they become tinged with vivid crimson, the veins on his cock throbs as he feels Adam’s puckered entrance brush against his tip. 

A shuddering, yet strong and wavelike rush of a movement sends his arousal to increase into something like a burst of voltage running through his entire corporeality, locking him in the place and time. Feeling Adam’s tightness grabbing onto his smooth head, his hand firmly grabs Adam’s sharp hipbones and makes the younger man’s body to sink against his erection, feeling the tight coil open up to accompany him. The exquisite resistance breaking as more slick flows from the tip, his fleshy sleeve stretches as his length pulsates, as his heart does. Like his bike’s engine underneath him palpitating, his entire body flutters as he thrusts long and slow, each ring of muscles delicately sensitive as he grabs onto Adam’s length, slender fingers squeezing as his glutes squeeze hard, his oblique tightening as he begins to move his hips. 

“Fucking shit, Adam, I want you to fuck yourself on my cock and move those fucking hips.”


	15. Chapter 15

Arching his back against the wall, Adam grits his teeth as Nigel slides against his opening, the viscous gloss of his arousal coating the clench of muscle, made no more malleable by Adam’s racing heartbeat. As Nigel guides him to the length of his erection, Adam hisses a feverish exhale. Gouging his fingers into Nigel’s back a little harder than he intends, his torso contracts with the wounding breach of the head. The flood of stimulation that follows causes him to unfurl to the wind of Nigel’s body, a reel of bruising turmoil sucking him down and over the piercing rhythm.

“I haven’t been with a man” Adam breathes, shuddering his hips between the concrete and the ruined flesh of Nigel’s abdomen. The fierce motion breaks a sweat at the nape of his neck, the fluid mingling with the drip of his rain-soaked hair, twisting down his spine. “I hadn’t done a lot of things before tonight. I’m… not sure I even thought of them.”

Thrusting his shoulder blades up against the wall, Adam bends his knees back to his chest, his mouth slackening as his throat twitches in pleasure. The scrape of Nigel’s teeth as raw and caustic as his brimming ecstasy, a guttural moan escapes his lips as he pulls Nigel’s hair sharply back, revealing the corded muscle at his neck, the welt of ink where the tattoo laced around his artery.

“But I’m doing them now….” Adam leans in, pressing Nigel’s forehead hard against his own, plunging against the unfettered stare. “I’m thinking of them here…” Adam sifts forward, his face creasing to blissful agony with the reach of Nigel’s cock. “And if you’re not going to be gentle…” he traces his nose down the sharper flare of Nigel’s, his cheekbone slicing the channel of Nigel’s features “…Then, I will also be… not so gentle.”

Brushing the fullness of his mouth against Nigel’s stained jaw, he encloses his teeth around the tender flesh of Nigel’s lower lip, his tongue penetrating the soaked entrance. Biting gently down, he feels the gauzy, metallic taste of Nigel’s blood mesh with his own, his inhibitions crumbling as his curiosity reaches a pique. With unchecked eagerness, Adam follows the slicing cave of Nigel’s throat, drinking in the salty, smoky turbulence of the man’s scent, throwing his head back to stare up at the skylight as a pulse of afflicted desire overwhelms him.

Beneath Nigel’s glittering stare, Adam can see the last prickle of starlight burning down from the parting stormclouds, the darkness now crisp and mercurial. Wrapped inside the pounding of his heart, Adam cages his chest against Nigel’s, forcing himself harder and deeper against the thrust of his cock, each stroke taking him further from the world. Gathered against the taut bridge of Nigel’s stomach, he feels the sticky glaze of his erection coat the press of skin between them, a winding thread of the slick drenching the smoother bend of his own.

Coiling his hips, Adam curves an arm behind him, bracing the palm of his hand against the cold, grainy surface. His other chases the sculpt of Nigel’s collarbone, softly gripping about his windpipe till his thumb caresses the tangle of swollen veins, the veil of sweat leaking over the tattoo. Rearing up, he feels his body jerk and shiver at the verge of some unfamiliar relish, his eyes locked with Nigel’s, watering with rapture and bewilderment. It feels confusing. It feels like everything. Adam remembers to smile.

____

As soon as his thick curved length makes all the way into Adam’s coiled heat, the smoldering warmth radiates from the unification, his frantic drumming of the heart matching the pounding of the rain to the dome. Beads of sweat rolling down from his hairline, continuous stripe of saltiness draws an arch along his sharp cheekbone, all the way down to the sensuous curve of his angular jawline, the ink on his thick muscled neck taut as his teeth clench. A low and husky growl rattling his chest as it flutters. Drowning from his thundering heartbeat as the beats oscillate up to his throat and eardrums, his pronounced glutes and obliques squeeze as his spine curves like a sneak, feeling each vertebrae ripple as he feels the length enter in and out.

His lips still tightly molded against Adam’s jaw, the pink smears against his high cheekbone as the tastebuds trail the last lingering taste of copper-rich vital fluid. Lips parting as he feels sweat beading around the cupid’s bow, he licks his upper lip as chin digs down against his chest, looking at the lewd sight of his flushed length easily move against the slick. “Fucking breaking the cherry, are we, didn’t need a fucking clarification, but it doesn’t make any fucking difference.” Not that it’s just another hole to fuck his cock in, but he had mixed feeling after all. He wasn’t against the idea of mere ‘fucking,’ with no emotional attachment tying him down. Easy in, easy out, he’d not see them and his need would be satisfied with just short-lived and would remain in gray area. That had been the exact reason why he had preferred relying on other means of euphoria, including succumbing to the dope fiend and speedballing as he felt his stomach contract, surrounding himself with splatters of his own release.

His cheeks plumping as lips curl up in a smirk, he knows there would be much more, many things that Adam will get to see if he had been with the younger man. Judging by the looks of things, the blue eyes have darted to make a notice of his gun, which he hadn’t been discreet to hide it from anyone and his trade. His eyes told that he didn’t take shits from other people. Although damaged and wounded he had been, he was finally going to be a caged animal out to be released back to the wilderness, where it came from, where it belonged and supposed to be innate. Uneducated but articulate, unartful but eloquent, this had been the transient step to get him to the proper atmosphere. Perhaps meeting Adam had been the necessary step to get to the next chain of things.

“There would be a lot of fucking things you’ll witness, things what I’m capable of doing, as if, you fucking haven’t figured them out already. I’m hoping you fucking register fine without watching everything unfold. It remains to be seen how much you can take, but I’m far from being one-sided and deceitful.” Unblinking and ever fiercing, his hazel eyes glint as he feels Adam’s length paint a stripe along his abdomen, just above where the ugly lacerated scar ends. Taking deep inhales as his nostrils flare, he shoots up an amused look, his forehead parting from Adam’s as lids drape over half of his irises.

Grunting as his death grip tightens around Adam’s hipbones, hips frenetically move as the continuous wave surges inside his core, his lower abdomen coursing blood towards his ever growing interest which begins to throb with blood flow. The taste of iron rich blood against his lips intensifies as it pools by the sensitive wetness of his teeth and inner lips, he hisses low, feeling the coppery tang overwhelm and propelling his drive. Chin tilted upward, his gaze grows heavy as he eyes the dense sanguine appearing like a black opal, glistening and glimmering as the strip of starlight shines through the glass panes above them, tilted at an angle, letting in a ray of moonlight through the heavy shrouds of clouds.

Adam’s apple bobbing as he openly exposes the most vulnerable part of his body, he still remembers the needles move at a devastatingly fast speed as the ink deposited between his skin. Done in an impulse, but it had became what it defined him. Somewhere not a lot of people dared to be marked. Now feeling the wet and warm tongue brush over the artery like a fat, decisive and prominent paint stroke on the painting, the round curve of his strong neck tauts as biceps flex, lifting Adam’s legs further up as feverish driving continues to knock his breath away, loss of inhibition imminent, if not happened already. Two impulses combined, In surrendering to carnal desires, not only he was relieving his inhibitions, he was also venting his suppressed urges as a companion becomes something of a sexual interest which he hadn’t expected. Like all the things, the unlikely encounter had been out of the blue. There had been times he did not know what to do with himself, but one thing had been clear. Despite their inveterate differences, he needed many things in his life. Narcotics and booze had been few of the things, a friend, a lover, a place to live beside the club and the darkness of his flat where he barricaded himself in had been the other.

Feeling the imprint of the hand along his jutting collarbones, the straight goods become imminent and set as his length begins to surge inside, an ardent orgasm ripping through his tanned mass as his lips part, a low, guttural grunts pressing his chest against Adam’s, as his back arches. The dip of the spine tightens as all of his muscles shudder, the first jet of his essence filling Adam’s heat. Spurting ropes of dense strings, his dripping macchiato locks cling to Adam’s shoulder, more deeper and slow thrust stroking the sweet spot as he feels the thick translucent fluid drip onto his velvety sacs.

Like trying to comprehend the immensity of the universe and all the fucking constellations had boggled his mind, understanding this - something he hadn’t believed and known to exist in only fairytales happening to him had him blown away.


	16. Chapter 16

The thread of Nigel’s voice snaking over his prickled skin, Adam relinquishes to the building pressure tugging toward his core, recoiling sharply against the wall as he feels the torrent of heat fill him from within. He hears himself yell out- a harrowing, animalistic sound that he doesn’t recognise, echoing to the breadth of the chamber as his veins contract in asphyxiating pleasure. His erection bound against the press of Nigel’s abdomen, he convulses as a surge of white splashes over his stomach, leaking down the thin trail of hair and over the cleave of his muscle. His thighs twitching and weakened in the aftermath, Adam sinks his forehead against the other man’s chest, clutching into Nigel like he would never let go.

Letting his feet shudder to the ground, Adam can barely stand, his calves stinging with the effort of gripping Nigel’s waist. His breath catching in his throat, he tries to find means to articulate all the pictures splitting his heart and mind in two. Tripping and scrambling for the right words, each one fractures within an inch of his grasp, billowing into the maze of feeling strangling at his chest. Shattered and overwrought, Adam shivers his lips to Nigel’s jaw, gently kissing him at the side of his mouth, feeling Nigel’s cock slowly pull and release him, still warm and slippery between his legs.

His breath coarse and uneven, Adam collapses his head into Nigel’s shoulder, the damp curve of his neck a blurry comfort as he tries to collect his bearings. Squeezing his eyelids against the writhing emotion, he opens them in time to see the first sleet of sunlight unfolding from the skydome, a ripple of cobalt against the last stand of dark. It looks like art. It feels like music. It hurts like hell.

Jolting backward, Adam’s face crumples in panic. “My plane! I have to go!”

Without further explanation, he wrenches his trousers back over his hips, his fingers making a mess of the zip and fastening, finally managing to get the belt into some kind of state that won’t come loose. Flinging himself around, he snatches the discarded cotton shirt where it landed, plunging his arms through the taut fabric and tucking it in without pausing for the buttons. Not caring that his cardigan leaked into a puddle, Adam pulls it over his head the wrong way round, quickly tucking the label back under the seams as it shuffles against his collar.

Hurtling toward the door, Adam sees the void of his backpack, all the new and tidy objects scattered where he left them, now strange and unfamiliar. Falling to his knees, he scrapes them into the soggy compartment, his pressed folder of travel documents now a smear of torn paper and ink. It doesn’t matter. He knows the plan off by heart.

 _“United Airlines flight A177 to California, departing 7:08 am…_ ” he mutters under his breath, the mantra now suffocating rather than soothing. Wrestling the zip closed, Adam bundles the backpack against his chest, not bothering to rake the fall of curls from his eyes as he bolts to the door.

He steps out into the milky blue light, blinking viciously while his senses reel back into focus. He can feel the glutinous stick of his orgasm webbed between his clothes and the drain of his torso, his entrance still throbbing where Nigel had taken him. He can hear Nigel’s whisper, sharp as the knife he had held in his hand, cold as the gun in his belt. Adam took several long strides toward the stairwell, then turned around and jogged back, faltering in the frame, his voice wavering with the brimming light.

“Nigel. About… figuring things out. About what I’d see. About you being capable. Who you are.” Adam sucked a low breath, the air cutting against his swollen throat. “…I know.”

It wasn’t until he had lurched down the stairs, sprinted across the gravelled pavement, and slammed the door on the first of the morning taxis crawling over the highway, that he allowed whatever was left of him to finally break apart.

  
____

  
Still reeling from the afterglow of things, his shallow and short strokes continue as lewd sounds amplify against the observatory, the smacking echoes and reverberates through his eardrums as the heavy musk surrounds the air around him. His natural scent along with faint underlying smell of whiskey and nicotine, a bit of motor oil and gunpowder. All of the amalgamation defining who he is. Almost his innate scent customized only for him. As soon as Adam’s length surges and violently twitches against the glistening stripe painted along his abdomen, a rush of orgasm, still shared by their unification sweeps his body like a quick wave of tsunami. Muscular legs trembling as he feels Adam slide off from his body, he holds the faltering man close to his heart, thumping heavily as if someone had squeezed around it.

His downward gaze staring at the dense white rings that glisten around his flushed length, more droplets dripping onto the floor as it bobs like a slow moving metronome. Two hearts beating in almost a response to the other’s heart as they beat like oscillating current, his stomach tightens to the core, trying his best to control the breathing. His slack lips exhaling heavy puffs of warm and moist hair, which lands against the curve of Adam’s neck, taking in the man’s scent.

The bite mark around his sharp jawline radiates a dull, but pleasurable pain. The mark that he will always remember. It would pain him to pass by the observatory and think of the most spontaneous activity he had done among other few things that would remain a secret. His clandestine activities which not many knew about. Although his fiery and intense eyes tell that he wasn’t just any person who merely runs the thriving club in downtown bucharest. And the one more twisted and dark one beneath it. Still in a haze as he looks up to meet Adam’s bright blue which glisten under the soft ray of sunlight peeking out from the heavy nimbus, the gloomy clouds finally passing as the dawn nears. All of the celestial bodies pushed away with the golden glow that widens across the sky, he reciprocates what it feels like a parting kiss. His head leans for more, yearning for more touch as he still basks in the afterglow.

Unfazed, he merely flashes a sharp smirk and begins to squeeze his still hard length from the base, watching the thick pearly white collect on his fingers. Before pulling his tight boxers and still damp jeans up, he tastes the strong musk with the faint salty taste of his essence and looks Adam hurriedly moving about. “Considering the way things are, you might just fucking be able to make it within time for the security. If not, you’re either fucked up or I’d wish for a delay.” His low and throaty voice more amplified, an amused gaze unwaver against the open door that he picked open.

Slender fingers doing the buttons up as he buckles the belt up with the last flick of his movement, they comb through his drenched ashen locks before plucking a cigarette out from the back of his jeans. The crushed pack is wet, but the contents remain dry as the jeans had been bunched around the underside of his ass. The faded blur of his view focuses again as Adam stills his frantic movements, his lips puff out heavy and thick trail of smoke, savoring the nicotine surging inside his windpipe and nostrils. Striding in long steps as he locks the door from the inside, he merely smiles and it turns into a wide, lopsided grin as he watches Adam hurry to catch a taxi. “Oh, I’m not fucking letting you go, not like this.”

As soon as the taxi takes off, he quickly descends the staircase and takes out his phone, making a reservation for the same flight, which layovers in New York, where his destination will be. “I’m sure I’ll fucking make it before you do.” Muttering as he hangs up the phone, the sun feels especially warm against the soaked clothes, now drenched in rain and his sweat. No fucking time to waste, he only has about two hours until his own flight and the road seems to be barren. With his dexterous skills and daredevil spirit, catching up with the taxi will be as easy as pie. And he already has some of his clothes and necessary items inside his leather duffle bag, stowed inside the compartment, along with his passport and personal documents. _Superb_.

_Ne vedem în curând, superba._


	17. Chapter 17

Worn tyres gritting against the potholed road, Adam clings fruitlessly to the window, the seatbelt hardly more useful than any of the other accessories swinging madly in the cab. Ducking, he narrowly avoids a whack in the face from the assortment of objects hanging from mirror- most notably a string of rosary beads, glow-in-the-dark skeleton and a set of fluffy dice with  _Bucharest Does It Better_  emblazoned on the side. Sniffling, he keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the windscreen, thinking in hindsight that out of all the activities he’d undertaken in the last 24 hours, sitting on the back of a motorcycle now seemed comparatively safe and sensible.

As the driver swerved to avoid a rouge pack of cyclists, Adam saw they were racing past the People’s Palace, the first tourists of the day milling about the fountain at its entrance. Up close, the building looked far larger and older than it had in his Lonely Planet guide, more formidable than the sparkling stack of rectangles he had glimpsed over Nigel’s shoulder.

_“Yes, that would be the Palatul Parlamentului, but perhaps you’d much more prefer going to Observatorul Astronomic Amiral Vasile Urseanu. No fucking translation required there.”_

Swallowing hard on the memory, Adam squeezed his hands together until his knuckles ran white.

“Heya? Sir? You want some chewing gum?”

Breaking free of the daze, Adam stared blankly at the driver, remembering far too late that polite social conversation is neither polite nor social if one party doesn’t answer back. Undeterred, the cabbie reached across Adam’s lap, pulling open the glove compartment and shaking out a packet of Juicy Fruit. Adam can still taste Nigel on his lips, all bitter and smoky and delicate at once.

“No… thank you…”

Shrugging, the driver empties a decent number of pellets into his own hand, knocking them back like some kind of medicine. Not bothering to close the dash, Adam’s eyes trail down into the mish-mash of belongings, stopping at a bright pink wad of plastic. It’s one of those rain-poncho things. The ones you can buy at any gas station. Except, apparently, the ones in Bucharest. Covering his face with his hands, Adam bursts into tears. The driver looks at him suspiciously, then slowly shuts the compartment.

By the time they wound over the hill and through the net of other scooters, trade vans and tinted-black windows making their way to the airport, the only thing stopping Adam from being sick is lack of time. As they pull up to the international departures dock, he buckles against the door, thumbing a wad of notes from his wallet and shouting the expression of thanks he heard Nigel use earlier- “ _lasă-ne dracului în pace, copii!_ ”.

The driver blinks back, somewhat amused. “ _Americans_ ” he mutters, curving back into the road.

Dashing toward the automatic door, Adam’s canvas sneakers near send him sliding over on the smooth tiles as he skids to a halt in front of the flickering television screens. They flash intermittently between Romanian text and English, and he has to wait a couple of rounds before he can catch the boarding gate for his flight. Forty-seven. Turning to his left, Adam breaks for the security checkpoint at top speed. Every fibre of his body wants to run the other way. But he doesn’t look back.

____

Knowing the highways and less known roads better than any taxi drivers does as if they had been etched on the back of his hand, Nigel doesn’t even have to look at the GPS to figure out the shortcut. As the sky gradually paints with more vivid cerulean blues and specks of white cumulus clouds, the gloomy nimbus pushing away and disappearing against the distance. As his mood, the light and fluffy clouds look like cotton candies floating around, surrounding his bike as his clothes quickly dry under the intense morning light. With renewed enthusiasm, the bike’s engine roars underneath him like an awakened predator, his eyes only transfixed on the prey as it sprints with all of his energy. The strong muscles flexing, graceful legs digging against the dirt. Except he is the bike, his body tightly pressed against the dashboard as his body lowers, the leather jacket flapping frantically as he feels a bit of sweat on his sun-kissed skin slowly dry in a thin film. 

Away from all the morning tourists and major attractions, the drive is much quicker than he had anticipated, just like his frenetically beating heart.  _You are in for a fucking surprise, Adam Raki, I’m fucking following you, perhaps not the same city now, but eventually, I’ll visit you there. To Pasadena, California, or even get you to move in New York_ ,  _the city I have been coveted to live for his lifetime._  All the money he had been investing would finally pay off. With a slight tilt of his head, he smirks inside the helmet, the visor slightly fogging up as he huffs, remembering the kiss on the corner of his lips. Their last touch before Adam’s quick retreat. 

As soon as he makes to the airport, he calls one of his associates and tells him to get his bike, to sell it and transfer money into his account. “Asigurați-vă că veți obține suma pe care o merită cu adevărat.” He wants to make sure that his customized Ducati sells with the amount it deserves. His motorcycle had been his second body, perhaps even more than that as he took care of it better than he had his own body. Now that has taken care of, he shoves whatever he has inside the compartment into his leather duffle bag. His spare clothes, including another leather jacket or two he has, few pairs of jeans shoved inside, some are already soiled and some folded into thirds. His gun and knife, which he surely knows he can’t carry inside the aircraft. 

_“United Airlines flight A177 to California, departing 7:08 am._ Asta e zborul voi fi internat.” Making sure to confirm the flight and time, he retrieves his ticket and strides into the security point. His heart racing as his surprise nears, then he gets an overseas call from his wealthy client from the States. “The plan has been set and the club is under the construction to be renovated and opened at the prospective date. And a small group of artists and conservationists just had a meeting and they have scheduled to deliver a small shipment of replicated paintings.” Having heard the news that surprises even him, his wet lips slack a bit, searching for the lingering, yet fleeting taste of Adam on his lips. 

“Clasa prestigiu începe îmbarcarea acum la poarta patruzeci și șapte.” Prestige class begins to board at his gate and he clutches his leather duffle bag tight around his shoulder, looking down at the ticket. When his hazel orbs rise to stand in the line for the next section of the craft boarding, he sees Adam making his way down to the line. “You fucking are late, where the fuck have you been?” Shooting an amused gaze as he looks up and down at Adam’s complexion, his lips tilt lopsidedly in a smirk. “I’m fucking going to New York.” He flashes his passport along with the ticket, the American visa stamped along with the expiration date dated months from now. 


	18. Chapter 18

Out of breath, Adam grabbed the grey plastic tray from the stack at the side of the security conveyor belt, unravelling himself from his backpack and depositing it in the container.

“Do you have a laptop in the bag, sir? Laptops go in separately.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Adam gave a quick shake of his head. His brain had already logged that. But his thoughts couldn’t be further away.

“Any aerosols, sharp items or liquids over 100ml?”

“No… no… no.” Adam checked the articles off, his nerves fraying.

“What about this?” The officer pulled the small bottle of Afinata from the front pocket, the blueberry brandy he never had a chance to offer Nigel.

“I completely forgot!” Adam wailed, trying to keep it together.

The officer hardly raised an eyebrow. Giving the label a quick once-over, he dropped it unceremoniously in the awaiting trash can. “Belt. Keys. Coins. Shoes.”

Emptying the last of his metallic odds and ends next to the laptop, Adam walked through the security scanner. Another officer with a swab of paper was waiting at the other side.

“Sir, do you consent to a random substance reading test?”

“Y…yes?” Flustered, Adam held still whilst the paper was swiped at his clothing and backpack. “A…what?”

“A procedure to make sure you’re not carrying drugs or explosives” came the flat reply. The paper was placed in a small digital reader, the computer display flickering to green. “You’re all clear.”

“Okay” Adam mumbled, hastily struggling back into his shoes. On the screen above him, the departing flights rolled over to English. A177 now had a flashing note next to the boarding gate.  _Last call._

Sprinting down the long passageway, the spin of arrows and duty free signs guiding the way, Adam reached the lounge with minutes to spare. First and business class were already boarding, the line for coach a little longer. Instead of relief, dismay sunk to the pit of his stomach. Somehow, he thought he would have been gladder to see both check-in desks closed, the plane lifting off from the runway, and him far behind. Keeping his eyes firmly fixed at the ground, he joined the back of the queue.

And then he heard the voice.

Startled, Adam bounced to attention, his mouth falling open as he scanned the hunched shoulders left and right, finally looking up to see the figure striding toward him. Taller than most, all black and leather, unshaven and smug… he walked like someone who was always supposed to be there, looked like someone who never was.

Until now.

“Nigel…” he could hear his voice breaking, the most scrunched-up, joyful and completely ridiculous smile he had ever given spreading over his face. And then he started laughing.

“ _I’m_  late? Well… well… how does anyone ever get round this city, with drivers that don’t turn up, taxis that think that  _stop_  is a higher gear, and roads with more hazardous rocks than an asteroid belt??”

Not quite sure it wasn’t the jet lag, exhaustion and adrenaline all catching up to him, Adam couldn’t stop trembling and yelling at once. Delusion or not, it was the happiest he’d ever had, and damned if he wasn’t going to make the most of it.

“So am I. I am. Going. To New York.” Tangled and babbling, Adam gestured toward Nigel’s outstretched visa, hoping that might fill-in the blanks. For once, he had no idea what he was thinking. But exactly what he was feeling.

Some people might have thought it was crazy, to meet someone, to know someone, to love someone, all in a single second. They were the same kind people who thought he was crazy because he wasn’t neurotypical. They were the kind of people who were wrong. Whole galaxies could be created in a single second. Whole worlds could be made.

Taking a slower breath, he reached for Nigel’s hand, intertwining their fingers, holding him tight.

“I am going to New York.”

Calm and resolved, Adam drew him in close.

“With you.”

____

 

His hips swaying, conceited confidence oozing from his stance as he closes in the distance towards Adam. By the time his shirt had been completely dry, minus the dip of his spine where a trail of sweat painted a thin neverending line. Since inside the observatory, the line had been there, as it it had already belonged in the same place. Who would’ve thought he would be back at the airport in less than twenty-four hours? Just making his way back to his native city from Paris merely seven or eight hours ago. 

His leathery jeans were feeling heavy, thanks to the revving engine which emitted warmth around his legs, his upper thighs had been dry, but where his heavy boots were, above his shin down to his kneecaps were still soaking wet. His movements were uncomfortable and awkward than usual, but his characteristic demeanor were still there, his smug smirk, the shift of his hips. Exchanged money already inside his back pocket. 

“If you have lived here for more than fucking few decades, then you know everything like the back of your hand. Untraveled roads, away from the fucking tourists, taxi drivers rip off Americans like you, especially the one who’s a fucking frantic, flustered and in a hurry. Maybe that motherfucking driver took the road especially for you, get the fucking taste of Bucharest, so long, sucker.” Checking his pocket for the nicotine patch he had saved for long flights, knowing it’ll take a while for him to be able to smoke once he gets off, he places one near his neck, under the pin-up girl tattoo. 

“I fucking thought you were going back to California, but oh well, fucking cancel the last flight then, we won’d need to go there if you’re going to show me places other than Upper East Side.” Self-made man, no matter what the means to achieve was, he had been unstoppable, ruthless and relentless when it came to achieving his dreams and when he had everything the others sought for. His financial abilities, his sultry and sensual looks, the sensible and vulnerability he had within the curt and blunt facade that everyone seemed to mistake him for. While all the others failed to see him beneath the most outward layer he put up in his self-defensive mechanism, Adam had seen him in so many layers that he never expected he had inside him. The fucking love. Something that he had never imagined of having. The one who would accept him as he is. 

Either it could be his violent behavior, prone to anger, volatility, flippant exterior that would make anyone fear, but inside, there was an affectionate, fragile, somewhat like an eagle with broken wings who needed to be tended. He’d relish and etch this particularly magical and entrancing tale of him falling in love. 

A soft and guttural hum lifts his chest. His heart fluttering in an anticipation of the life in the States, the adrenaline coursing through him, all of the fatigue disappeared, his neurons sparking with new associations. The mythical story of Orion and Scorpion, Cassiopeia and celestial bodies in front of him on his bike. He vows himself to purchase the same exact bike, his first errand to do once he settles in the city that never sleeps. 

Pressing his shoulder against Adam, his left arm flush with the smaller man’s right, he squeezes Adam’s hand tighter as they enter through the gate after scanning the tickets. 

“You better fucking take me to that pork chop place. I’m giving up all the fucking things to come with you, so it better be out of this fucking world. Knocking my socks off good.” 

 


End file.
